In Another Life VII
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: For all those who requested another in this series :-) Dr. Harleen Quinzel is working with the GCPD, and goes undercover as Harley Quinn to infiltrate the Joker's gang. Needless to say, things don't go to plan...
1. Chapter 1

**In Another Life VII**

"All right, listen up, everyone!" shouted Commissioner Gordon, clapping his hands and trying to silence the room full of cops talking amongst themselves. "This is an important briefing! This operation is going to be delicate, and require stealth, cunning, and courage, and we've brought in a specialist to brief you on it. Could you all please welcome Dr. Harleen Quinzel, from Arkham Asylum."

"Thank you, Commissioner," said Dr. Harleen Quinzel, adjusting her glasses as she approached the overhead projector. She heard a few wolf whistles and glared out at the audience.

"Hey baby, you wanna get me on the couch sometime?" chuckled Detective Bullock, soliciting a laugh from the others.

"Yes, I've…never heard that one before," growled Harleen, reaching into her briefcase.

"Dr. Quinzel is a professional, and she should be treated with respect!" snapped Gordon, sternly. "The next person to speak gets sent out!"

"Thank you, Commissioner," repeated Harleen. "This is our man," she said, slapping a picture onto the overhead projector. "Real name unknown, alias the Joker. He's committed several atrocities over the years – you name it, he's probably done it – arson, murder, robbery, kidnapping, extortion, the list goes on. He's motivated by nothing else than a sick sense of humor – he believes that the crimes he commits are funny, and often uses gag items in these crimes, self-styling himself the Clown Prince of Crime, which we assume is some identity he's built up based on his appearance. That's not makeup, by the way – the clown look is permanent. He was the victim of some horrible accident, the details of which are still vague – he always gives doctors different versions of the events, and of his own past, so we really don't know anything concrete about him, other than the fact that he seems to have an unhealthy obsession with the masked vigilante known as Batman. A lot of his crimes seem to be just to get his attention, but we don't know why. However, if you have any other questions about the Joker, I'd be happy to answer them," she said, turning the projector off. "He's a bit of a specialty of mine. I've dedicated years to researching his methods and personality."

A policeman raised his hand. "Have you ever treated him personally?" he asked.

"Not yet, no," retorted Harleen. "I've just been transferred to Arkham, and the Joker has been on the run since my arrival. But I can tell you that reading about him is just as good for research purposes as meeting him."

"Whoever gets chosen for this mission is going to be working very closely with Dr. Quinzel before beginning it," said Gordon. "We need our officer to be as well informed about the maniac as she is. Now do we have any volunteers?"

Every male in the room's hand shot up, and Harleen rolled her eyes. "Serious volunteers only," snapped Gordon, glaring at them. "This is going to be a lot of work, and it's a highly dangerous mission. Going undercover to infiltrate the Joker's gang is no joke. If the maniac suspects he's got a traitor in his midst, he's not going to show him any mercy. This guy is a serious psychopath, despite his silly appearance."

"Are you sure this whole undercover infiltration is necessary, Comish?" asked Bullock, raising his hand. "I'm sure any information we need about the Joker, we can get by roughing up some of his guys…"

"I don't condone police brutality of that sort," snapped Gordon. "And anyway, a single henchman is only going to know so much. Our undercover officer can actively seek out the things we need to know about the Joker's gang – targets, methods, you name it. The kinda info he could source would be invaluable to preventing further crimes. I think it's a risk we need to take. I would volunteer myself, but the Joker knows me. It has to be an officer he's not going to be familiar with – someone fairly young and new to the force."

He scanned the raised hands around the room. "Henderson, what about you?" he asked.

A clean cut, attractive young man smiled, putting down his hand. "I'd be happy to help, Commissioner. If Dr. Quinzel is ok with it, of course."

"I trust the Commissioner's judgment," replied Harleen.

"All right – the rest of you get back to work," said Gordon. "You have two weeks to say goodbye to Henderson – after that, you're going to pretend not to know him until he comes home safe and sound. And I have every certainty he will."

The other cops patted Henderson on the back before they left, leaving him alone with Commissioner Gordon and Harleen. "If you'll excuse me for just one second, Officer Henderson, I'd like a private word with the Commissioner," said Harleen, smiling at him.

"Not a problem, Dr. Quinzel – take as long as you need," said Henderson, kindly.

"What is it, Dr. Quinzel?" asked Gordon, as they shut the door to his office. "Henderson's gonna do a good job – he's one of the best young officers I've got. And he's very respectful, unlike some of the other guys here who seem to forget their manners when they see a beautiful woman."

"I don't want to question your judgment, Commissioner, but frankly sending a nice guy to infiltrate the Joker's gang makes it seem more like a suicide mission," said Harley.

"You'd prefer someone more thuggish?" asked Gordon.

"Frankly, yes," she retorted. "But what I'd actually prefer is not sending any of your men. I can't tell them everything they need to know about the Joker in two weeks. Plus he's a difficult man to predict even when you've studied him."

"What would you suggest?" asked Gordon. "Canceling the mission?"

"No," she retorted. She hesitated for a second, and then said, "Send me undercover instead."

Gordon laughed. "Dr. Quinzel, you're a psychiatrist, not an undercover cop," he retorted. "You have no training…"

"On the contrary, I'm trained in the Joker's methods and psychology," she retorted. "I know the ins and outs of his personality and his gang better than anyone here. I would be perfect for this."

"Other than the fact that it's a hugely dangerous mission, and we can't afford any mistakes," said Gordon. "Plus I have no authority to send a civilian into harm's way…"

"I'm volunteering," she said.

He shook his head. "I'm also not comfortable in…sending a woman to do this type of work," he muttered. "These are bad, rough men…"

"I've done self-defense training," said Harleen. "I can handle myself. Plus I'm in no danger from the Joker – all studies claim that he's basically asexual, although some do claim that he has a sexual desire for Batman. Either way, I'm not in any danger there."

Gordon shook his head. "I'm not allowing it, I'm sorry, Dr. Quinzel. Just train Henderson to the best of your ability, and then you're done with this mission, do you understand?"

Harleen bit her lip and nodded slowly. "Yes, Commissioner," she muttered, leaving his office and slamming the door.

"Everything ok?" asked Henderson, kindly.

"Yes, fine," she snapped, taking a seat next to him.

"I got you a coffee," he said, placing the paper cup down in front of her. "My name's Matt, by the way, Matt Henderson."

"Call me Harley – everyone does," said Harleen, shaking his hand.

"That's a nice name," he said. "So where are you from?"

Harleen looked at him. "This is a professional assignment, Matt – why don't we stay on track?"

"Sorry – I just like to get to know the people I'm gonna be working closely with," he said. "But go ahead – I'm ready to learn all I can about the Joker," he said, pen poised over his notebook.

She smiled. "I like your enthusiasm," she said, flipping through her file. "I'm from Brooklyn originally."

"Really? You don't sound like it," he said, surprised.

"Well, I…found that people prefer professional psychiatrists not to have Brooklyn accents," she said, slowly. "So I…got rid of it."

"Wow, that's really impressive," he said, sincerely. "You must have worked really hard to do that."

"Yes, I'm a hard worker," she agreed.

"I can see that," he said, nodding at the file in front of her. "If you don't mind me asking, why does a beautiful young woman such as yourself spend her life studying a crazy psychopath like the Joker?"

"Well, I've…always had an attraction for extreme personalities," replied Harley. "Ever since I was a kid, I've found myself drawn toward people who are…different from the norm. One of the reasons I went into psychiatry, I guess."

She sipped her coffee. "What about you? Why did you become a policeman?"

"Kinda runs in my family," he said, shrugging. "My Dad and Grandad were both cops, so I wanted to be one too. And it's great work, although every day's a challenge!" he laughed. "Anyway, wait until I tell my parents I'm doing this mission. They're going to be really proud. Anything anyone can do to stop that murdering nutjob is good for everyone."

"If you could refrain from using terms like 'nutjob' in the future, I'd be grateful," said Harleen. "If you're going to try to learn about the Joker, you're going to have to understand that he believes there's a method to his madness, rather than just dismissing everything he does as the ravings of a lunatic. There's a twisted logic to his crimes. The only way you're going to understand him is to try to see things from his perspective, and that's a hard thing to do."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be able to help me, Harley," he said, smiling.

"I'll do my best," she agreed. "Though frankly I've been studying him for years, and there are still things I don't understand about him. Maybe you can enlighten me, once you're back from the operation," she added.

"I hope so," he agreed. "What kind of things?"

She smiled. "Let's just focus on what we know for now, rather than what we don't know," she said. And anyway, she thought, she was going to find the things she wanted to know out for herself. She vowed then and there, that with Gordon's permission or without it, she was going on this operation.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, good luck for tomorrow, Matt. Or should I say Ernie Henshaw?" Harleen asked, raising her glass of champagne to him.

"Yeah, that's taken some getting used to!" laughed Henderson. "But everyone at the station has been calling me Ernie for the past two weeks, so I should be used to it by now!"

The entire GCPD had gathered to toast Henderson before he started the undercover operation tomorrow, and Harleen had been invited along to wish him luck. She had accepted readily, since she was intending to eavesdrop over his briefing, when he would be given the details of how to get in contact with the Joker's gang. Harleen had determined that Ernie Henshaw would not be the only person there to meet them.

"Everyone, can you please join me in toasting my wonderful teacher, Dr. Harleen Quinzel," said Henderson, raising a glass. "Any success I have is going to be owed all to her. She has an incredible insight, and a warm teaching manner, and I could not feel more confident about this operation tomorrow thanks to her fantastic advice…"

"Just kiss her already, Henderson!" shouted a voice, and everyone laughed.

Henderson looked embarrassed. "Um…to Harleen Quinzel," he said, raising his glass and drinking from it.

Gordon came over to Henderson, and they headed over to the drinks table. Harleen tried to look nonchalant as she drained her champagne glass and then sauntered idly over to the drinks table to help herself to punch.

"Tomorrow night you're to go to a bar called _The Stacked Deck _– some of Joker's goons are known to hang out there. You start asking around, see if anyone knows anything about the Joker, and let it slip you're interested in joining up. Then if all goes well, one of his guys will approach you, and you're home free. How's the punch, Dr. Quinzel?" asked Gordon, noticing her.

"Good," she said, innocently. "Want some?"

"No, thanks," he said. He clapped Henderson on the back. "Good luck," he said, heading back to his office.

"Ernie? Punch for you?" asked Harley, holding out a cup to Henderson.

He took it from her, smiling. "Um…Harley, do you think I could talk to you…privately for a minute?" he asked.

"Oh…sure," she said, surprised. "Let's go outside."

They left the assembly room and headed out into the hallway. "So what is it, Ernie?" she asked. "Some last minute questions about the Joker?"

"Uh…no," he stammered, looking down at his shoes. "I…don't really want to talk about him right now. I…uh…wanted to ask you…if…" He looked up at her. "If…when I get back from the operation…you'd like to…go out for dinner sometime."

"Oh," said Harleen, surprised. "Oh…yeah, that'd be nice," she said, nodding.

"Great," he said, beaming. "Gosh, I was more nervous about asking you that than I was about this whole operation tomorrow!" he laughed. "I just…think you're amazing, Harley. Smart and beautiful and…well, I'd really like to get to know you better."

Harleen smiled at him, not quite sure how to respond to that. Henderson was a very nice young man, but she didn't really have any romantic interest in him. But that would probably change the more she got to know him, she assured herself. After all, two weeks was barely any time at all. And since they were going to be on this operation together, unbeknownst to him, maybe that would bring them closer together too.

"So…uh…you'll wait for me, huh?" he asked.

"Sure," she agreed. "It probably won't even seem that long that you're away. The time will probably fly by."

"Well…I know I'll be thinking of you every night," he said.

Harleen didn't add that he'd probably also be seeing her every night. It was good, both of them going undercover like this, she reasoned - they could look after each other that way. Personally Harleen didn't have the greatest confidence in Henderson lasting that long in the Joker's employ – at least if she were around, she could protect him as best she could.

They rejoined the party, which broke up around midnight. Henderson wished Harleen goodnight and goodbye with a kiss on her cheek, and Harleen drove home, intending to get a good night's sleep.

That didn't happen. She was too excited about the operation, so she started packing instead, getting everything together. She had chosen a clown costume and persona – she knew the Joker would respond well to that kind of enthusiasm and inventiveness, plus would be flattered by the fact that she was emulating him. She was now Harley Quinn, she thought, as she slipped into the red and black catsuit, patterned with diamonds. She put her blonde hair up under a two-point jester hat, and then applied white face-paint, black lipstick, and a black mask. Looking in the mirror, she was very pleased with the result. And she hoped the Joker would be too.

The day passed slowly, until finally evening came, and Harleen drove over to _The Stacked Deck. _She reapplied her costume and makeup, and then slipped into the bar, looking discreetly around for Henderson.

She saw him in a corner, talking to a heavyset man in a suit. She sauntered over, sliding into the booth next to them.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, innocently.

They both stared at her in shock, although Henderson's shock was also mixed with horror. "Uh…no…the more the merrier," said the other man, recovering himself quicker. "Hello, Miss, I'm Rocco Demarco."

"Harley Quinn. Pleased to meetcha," she said, shaking his hand.

"And…uh…Ernie Henshaw," said Henderson, managing to conceal the horror on his face.

"You work for the Joker?" asked Harley, eyeing Rocco. "Think I've seen you with him."

"Maybe. What business is it of yours?" asked Rocco.

"Simple – I wanna join his gang," replied Harley. "Or do you think I dress like this for fun?"

Rocco laughed. "Well, that's a good joke, Miss Quinn, and the boss would probably laugh to hear it. But you can't join his gang."

"Why not?" asked Harley, indignantly. "You think a woman can't keep up with a buncha men? Trust me, pal, I could be ten times the lackey you are. But if you don't believe me, take me to the Joker and let him decide for himself."

Rocco studied her. "You're serious, ain't ya?" he asked.

"Course I am," she retorted. "You can't be dressed up like this and not be serious. Or ain't working for the Joker taught you nothing?"

Rocco nodded slowly. "The two of you wait here," he said, standing up. "I'm just gonna make a phone call."

He left them, and Henderson's look of nonchalance immediately dropped into concern again. "Harley, what are you doing?" he hissed.

"I'm going on this operation with you," retorted Harley. "I asked Gordon's permission, but he wouldn't give it, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. And neither one of you can turn me in without risking the ruin of this whole operation, so just deal with it."

"I'm not letting you put yourself at risk like this…" began Henderson.

"It's my decision, Ernie," she snapped. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

Before he could argue further, Rocco returned. "The boss says you should both come with me," he said. "He never takes on henchguys without meeting 'em first – he's an excellent judge of character. And he says the same rule applies to henchgirls too. So follow me."

They obeyed, piling into Rocco's car outside. He blind-folded both of them, and then drove a few minutes before stopping the car and helping them both out and through a door into a building. Then he removed the blind-folds to reveal a dark, dank room with a dripping ceiling and peeling wallpaper.

"He'll be with you in a second," muttered Rocco, leaving and shutting the door.

"Harley, this is nuts!" snapped Henderson. "You have to get yourself outta here now and go home!"

"I'm not going anywhere," retorted Harley, firmly. "I'm as prepared as you for this operation, and I'm going to see it done."

Henderson was about to start reprimanding her again, when the door suddenly opened, and they both turned and came face-to-face with the Joker.


	3. Chapter 3

Harley stared at him, taken aback that she was finally seeing this man in the flesh. He was taller than she'd imagined, and his bright, green eyes were more sharp and piercing than they had seemed in his pictures. He was dressed in his usual purple suit, with a long purple overcoat and a purple hat, leaning casually on a cane with his face on it and smoking a cigarette. His bright eyes flicked from Harley to Henderson and back, and he smiled, one of his huge, beaming grins.

"Well, this is a surprise!" he said. "Not one but two new recruits! Must be my lucky night!"

He chuckled, shutting the door and approaching them, puffing on his cigarette. "Ladies first, I suppose. When Rocco told me a woman wanted to join my gang, I thought he was joking," he said, smiling at Harley. "But I'm glad to see he wasn't. This is the 21st century after all – why not have a dame in my ranks? What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Harley Quinn," replied Harley.

He grinned. "I like it," he said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "And why do you wanna join my gang, Harley Quinn?"

"I've read a lot about ya," she replied, truthfully. "And you always seem to be having fun. And my life seemed so boring and empty by comparison – I was a doctor who just handled the same old problems day after day. And so I thought maybe if I joined your gang, I could be as happy as you always are."

He smiled at her. "You got any experience committing crimes, sweetheart?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. But I'm willing to learn."

"That's fine – experience is nothing compared to enthusiasm," he chuckled. "And I like your enthusiasm, kiddo," he said, eyeing her up and down.

He nodded. "Ok, you're in. Now lemme see about you," he said, turning to Henderson and puffing on his cigarette. He studied him carefully, frowning. "You ain't ever killed anyone, have you?" he asked, quietly.

Henderson shook his head slowly. "I can always tell," muttered Joker. "I don't tend to let greenhorns join my gang…but I suppose there's a first time for everything. And it'll be rewarding watching your first time, when you'll finally become a man!" he chuckled, clapping him on the back. "Yeah, you're in too, Henshaw, is it?"

"Yes, sir," replied Henderson, nodding.

"Good, good. We'll get your bodycount up soon!" he chuckled. "Now, both of you just wait here and I'll be back with the contracts."

He left them, shutting the door, and Harley heard it lock. She was instantly alarmed. "It's a trap," she whispered.

"What?" demanded Henderson.

"It's a trap," she repeated, looking around the room. "If we get out alive, we get to join the gang. If we don't, it's no loss. Look," she said, pointing at the vent where a green gas began pouring into the room. "It's Joker toxin."

"That stuff that makes you laugh yourself to death?" said Henderson.

"That's the one," said Harley, trying not to panic as she looked around for some way out of the room. "Try to hold your breath and look for a way out. There's got to be one…"

Her eye fell on some boxes in the corner and she hurried over, throwing them open. They were filled with balloons. She unstacked the boxes to reveal a small gas canister which read _Hydrogen _on it, along with some matches and a knife. She could use the knife to try to fiddle the lock, she thought, or…try to light the door on fire with the matches, but the smoke might overpower her before the Joker toxin could…but then a better idea came to mind.

She grabbed a balloon, filling it full of hydrogen gas and then tying it, sticking the end underneath the door frame. "Step back," she warned Henderson, and then struck a match, throwing it at the balloon.

The door exploded off its hinges, and Harley and Henderson raced out of the room, coughing on the smoke and struggling to breathe non-toxic air. They raced down the corridor until they reached another room, slammed the door, and collapsed inside, coughing and gasping.

Then they heard the sound of party horns and looked up to see a bunch of confetti floating down from the ceiling. The Joker was seated on a purple, throne-like chair in front of them, while his henchmen wore party hats and applauded.

"Congratulations!" said Joker, holding out two pieces of paper to them and beaming. "You're in!"

"Is…being in your gang…always gonna be that exciting?" gasped Harley, glaring up at him as she took her contract.

"Aw, that was just a warm-up!" said Joker, waving his hand. "Things are gonna get much, much more exciting, I promise you, toots!"

"Great," muttered Harley, wondering for a moment if she hadn't made a mistake.

"Guys, I'd like to introduce you to the two newest members of our happy family – Ernie Henshaw and Harley Quinn!" said Joker, gesturing at them.

"Hey baby, like the outfit!" called one of the henchmen. "Take it off!"

Harley was about to respond caustically, when the Joker suddenly held up his hand. "Jerry, c'mere," he said, beckoning the man who had spoken.

He obeyed. "You wanna see Rocco take his clothes off?" asked Joker, gesturing to the heavyset henchman with his cane.

"Uh…no, sir," said Jerry, hastily.

"Good. Then don't ask Harley to do anything you wouldn't want the other boys to do," whispered Joker. "She's an equal member of the gang now, same as the rest of you, and she's going to be treated equally. Or guess what?" he asked, snapping his cane up suddenly so that it struck Jerry in his crotch. "You're gonna lose the ability to physically appreciate women, if you understand what I'm saying."

"Yes…boss," gasped Jerry, cupping his groin.

"Good. And that goes for the rest of you," he said, looking around sternly. "If Harley is bothered by any of you, I'll find out, and the results won't be pleasant. There's nothing in her contract that makes her any different than the rest of you, and this is all business, so let's keep it professional. Assuming she's happy to sign under those terms?" he asked, looking at Harley.

She nodded, scribbling down her signature and handing the contract back. He smiled. "Welcome to the Joker's gang, Harley Quinn," he said, holding out his hand.

She shook her head. "I'd rather not shake – joy buzzer," she said, pointing at his palm.

He grinned, chuckling. "Very good," he murmured, removing it. "We'll make something of you yet."


	4. Chapter 4

"The boss gives you options – you can rent your own place, or you can stay in the hideout," said Rocco, as he escorted Harley and Henderson down the hall. "Staying in the hideout is rent free, but sometimes the accommodation ain't as nice," he said, gesturing to the flickering lightbulbs overhead and the peeling wallpaper. "Still, a lotta the guys prefer to save the money, and it's handy to be close by in case the boss needs you on short notice. The boys usually share rooms, but the boss has said you can have your own," he said, nodding at Harley. "Henshaw, you'll be rooming with me, unless you want your own place."

"Nah, I ain't picky," replied Henderson.

"What about you, Harley?" asked Rocco, opening the door to a room, which consisted of a mattress on the floor, a chair, a small table, and a bathroom about the size of a closet, barely large enough to fit a toilet and a shower. "This good, or do you wanna find your own place?"

"This'll suit me fine," replied Harley, putting down her bag.

"Great. We don't really have any rules here – just be ready in case the boss needs you on short notice," said Rocco. "Always have your phones on and charged. Otherwise your free time is yours, to spend how you wanna, no questions asked. So, y'know, if you wanna visit your boyfriend, you still can…"

"I don't have a boyfriend," retorted Harley.

"Oh. Sorry," said Rocco, surprised. "I just assumed…pretty young girl like you…" He trailed off. "Sorry, none of my business," he repeated. "Don't tell the boss I asked…I didn't mean it as an 'I'm interested' sorta thing, because I ain't…got a daughter about your age, and it wouldn't be right…at least, I think she's about your age, because you look young…not that I can tell just by looking at you…not that I _have _been looking at you..."

"Don't worry, Rocco," said Harley, unable to suppress a smile. "I won't tell him."

He nodded. "Well, you need anything, you let me know. I'm gonna show Ernie his new digs," he said, shutting the door and leaving with Henderson.

Harley looked around at the shabby room, thinking that it was better than some of the places she had stayed in while putting herself through medical school. She began unpacking when there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said.

Henderson entered. "Come to try to talk me out of staying?" she asked. "Because you're wasting your breath."

"Even if you're determined to stay in the gang, why are you staying _here_?" asked Henderson, gesturing around. "This is a building full of the worst kinds of men…"

"And there's a lock on the door," retorted Harley. "Anyway, you heard what the Joker said."

"And you believe him?" demanded Henderson.

"What did I tell you, Ernie?" she asked. "He's always serious about his jokes. And he thinks Harley Quinn is a pretty good joke right now. He's not going to let anyone ruin it. Anyway, this way we can keep an eye on each other."

"You being here doubles our chances of getting caught, you know that, don't you?" demanded Henderson.

"Doncha trust me?" asked Harley, glaring at him. "After I just saved you in that trap, I'd think you could have some faith in my abilities not to blow this whole operation."

Henderson was silent. "I'm grateful for that," he murmured. "But I just don't want anything to happen to you, Harley. I can't bear the thought of you being hurt."

"I can handle myself," she replied, firmly. "You have to trust me, Ernie."

There was another knock on her door, and Harley went to open it. She was surprised to see the Joker standing there. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything?" he asked, noticing Henderson.

"No," said Henderson, hastily, standing up. "Just came to see how Harley was settling in. I'll go now," he said, giving her a concerned look and leaving.

"I do hope there's not a blossoming romance in my ranks," said Joker, smiling at her as he sat down on the chair.

"Would that be a problem?" asked Harley, keeping her expression neutral.

"Yes," retorted Joker. "It's important for my lackeys to get along, but it's also important for them to realize that they're all expendable. And that if one needs to be left behind or sacrificed, that's all part of the job. If there was some depth of feeling between the people who worked for me, that might make that aspect of henching difficult. And I don't like unnecessary difficulties."

"I wouldn't worry about that, sir," replied Harley. "I don't have any interest in Henshaw. Or anyone."

"Good," he said, lightly. "Because what I said to the boys goes both ways. I don't want you bothering them either. This is a job, not a social club. Not that I think you're that type of girl," he added, chuckling.

"What type of girl do you think I am?" she asked.

"An interesting one," he said, leaning back. "That's why I'm here. I liked what you said about why you wanted to join, and I was hoping you'd survive the test," he said, grinning. "I wanted to know more about you. What kind of doctor were you?"

"A psychiatrist," she replied.

"Really? Ever worked at Arkham?" he asked. She shook her head, and he chuckled. "That's good – I thought I would have remembered someone like you. Anyway, you wouldn't have fit in there. The Docs there got no imagination, no sense of humor."

"Maybe they just don't think you killing them is funny," replied Harley.

"No sense of humor, like I said," he agreed, nodding. "So you were a shrink who read about me and decided she liked what she read about my lifestyle. And the killing and breaking the law…that doesn't bother you?"

Harley shrugged. "I doubt there's anyone alive who hasn't broken the law in some way, big or small. The law is inflexible – life isn't. If we follow the rules all the time, we'll never be happy. And I've…spent my whole life being unhappy, abstaining from all amusement and fun in order to study and work. If I'd lived like that for a second longer…I would've gone crazy."

He nodded. "Yeah, it makes sense to me, toots. Which is odd in a shrink – normally I think they're the ones who need their heads examined!" he laughed. "It's a nice change – usually the people who join up with me are thick or desperate or down on their luck, but it's nice to have someone who wanted to join because…she wants to have a little fun."

"Well, isn't that why you're a criminal?" asked Harley. "Because you think it's fun? That's what I've read, anyway."

He shook his head. "I don't _think _it's fun – it _is _fun. If you do it right, which I always do. I mean, Batman's a criminal too, but he's clearly not having any fun with the whole thing, and I think that's a shame. Sometimes I just commit crimes to try to put a smile on his miserable face – he's always so gloomy!"

"What's the deal with you and Batman?" asked Harley.

"Deal?" he repeated, puzzled. "I dunno that there is a deal. I cause trouble, he shows up, we have some laughs and the game starts all over again. It's nice to have someone to depend on like that, y'know? Someone you know is never gonna let you down. And Batsy never does. He never fails."

"He ruins your schemes," pointed out Harley.

Joker shrugged. "Sometimes I want him to. It's all part of the game. He sees himself as some all-powerful superhero, but I could kill him in a second by shooting him in the head if I really wanted to. But I don't. And that's the joke."

Harley nodded, sitting down on her bed. "Do you often talk with your lackeys casually like this?" she asked.

He shrugged again. "I like to know some things about the people who work for me – it can be useful. And I figure it's only fair they know some things about me. Not that I really need to tell you anything, since you've done your homework on me," he added, grinning.

"There are some things I don't know," she admitted. "Some things nobody knows."

"Probably not even me!" chuckled Joker. "Anyway, you don't learn a lot about people by talking to them, that's what the shrinks don't seem to understand."

"How do you learn about them?" asked Harley.

"By watching their actions," he replied. "That's why I make everyone who wants to join up with me pass that test. I like to see how they react. Some people just panic and cry, and it's no loss that they don't survive. But some people, when they're backed into a tight spot like that, use their brains and come out fighting. And they're the ones I want working for me. People can say a lotta things, but you only find out who they really are when it comes down to the nitty gritty. That's how you separate the men from the boys. Or the women from the girls, if you want me to be PC," he added, nodding at her.

"I don't mind," she retorted. "I don't want any special treatment here just because I'm a woman. Although I do appreciate the private room," she added.

"Well, you don't wanna mingle with the guys in the shower and stuff," said Joker. "Seeing some of 'em naked might put you off men forever!" he chuckled. "And I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't like it."

"I don't have a boyfriend," repeated Harley.

"Good," he said, standing up. "I prefer my people to be unattached. For the same reasons I don't like my lackeys being that close – I don't wanna have to take care of a lot of angry relatives and lovers if something goes wrong on an operation."

"You don't need to worry about that, sir," she replied. "I'm fully aware that I'm expendable. I don't have anyone to go back to in my old life, and I'm eager to start my new one, however brief it might be. It would be better than the long and lingering death of boredom that waited for me in my old life."

He smiled. "I like a girl who knows her own worth," he said, tilting her chin up. "Don't you worry, Harley Quinn. You'll have some fun before you die, I promise."

He patted her cheek and then left. Harley watched him leave, then pulled a notebook out of her bag and began writing.


	5. Chapter 5

"All right, roll up, roll up, lady and gents!" chuckled Joker the next evening, as all the henchmen and Harley assembled in the lounge. "Feast your eyes on a brand new Joker caper entitled – dan, dan, da, da!" he said, emulating a fanfare as he pulled a sheet off a chalkboard to reveal a crudely sketched plan. "Laughter Is the Best Medicine! Here's the gag: a buncha fancy, rich types are hosting a charity ball to raise money for some medical research. You know the sort – society darlings, debutantes, senators, the odd cop, do-gooding busybodies who really should have better things to do with their time. So we're gonna teach 'em all a lesson by crashing the party and helping ourselves to their valuables and any money they've raised, plus do our own brand of research into how long it takes a group of rich twits to laugh themselves to death!"

Harley glanced at Henderson – she wondered if he really had the stomach for this work, once he saw the Joker toxin released into a room full of people, some of them fellow cops. She also wondered if _she_ had the stomach for it, not that either of them really had a choice.

"I think it's only fair that we give our newbies a piece of the action, so both Harley and Henshaw are coming with me on this, plus Rocco and Jerry," said Joker. "I think that should be enough – two to lookout, two to gather valuables, and one to entertain!" he chuckled, pointing to himself. "So let's grab what we need and move out – you got ten minutes!"

"C'mon, let's get the Joker toxin moved," said Rocco to Henderson and Jerry.

"What about me?" asked Harley.

"Uh…they're kinda heavy…" stammered Rocco.

"All right, then let me get the weapons," said Harley.

"Those are…kinda heavy too," said Rocco, slowly. "Why doncha just wait in the car?"

"I feel bad not pulling my weight," she said.

"Yeah, well, these things will probably _be_ about your weight, sweetheart," snapped Jerry. "So just get in the backseat, and don't even think about driving – women are terrible drivers."

Harley was about to snap at him when the Joker said, "Harley, you wanna be our getaway driver? We might need to make a quick exit, so it's a fairly important job."

She smiled smugly at Jerry. "I'd love to, boss," she said, striding out to the car with Jerry glaring after her.

"You just like messing with 'em, don't you?" asked Harley, strapping herself into the backseat as Joker climbed into the driver's seat. "It's not really about respect or equality for me so much as respect and equality for me annoys them."

He giggled. "You know me too well, toots," he said. "And you don't have to be the getaway driver if you don't want to…"

"I do," she said. "No point in setting up a joke without delivering the punchline."

He grinned at her. "I like you, Harley," he said. "I really do."

The guys returned, loading several canisters of Joker toxin into the trunk along with various guns. Then they all piled into the car and the Joker drove off into the streets of Gotham.

Harley sat next to Henderson, feeling nervousness in the pit of her stomach. She could only imagine that he felt the same as she tried to keep her hands from shaking. There was also, she had to admit, a strange kind of excitement to this, the idea that they were about to go out and break the law. Every rational part of her knew that it was wrong, and to go against rationality for once felt…thrilling, that was the only word to describe it.

They pulled up in front of a fancy hotel. "Good evening, sir, can I park your…" began the valet, but he froze in horror when he saw who was in the car.

Without a word, Joker shot him in the face. "Let's roll, boys. And girl," he chuckled, climbing out of the car and unloading the weapons. He tossed Harley a pistol and she managed to catch it, despite how horrified she had been at seeing the man shot. The others didn't seem fazed – they strode past the body and into the lobby, carrying guns and gas canisters. Harley managed to get herself under control and follow them.

Joker fired several shots into the air, sending the hotel patrons screaming and running for cover. "Don't mind me, folks – just on my way to a party!" he chuckled. "A couple of my boys are staying out here to keep a lookout and see that you don't call the cops, so don't try anything funny! Rocco, Jerry, stay here," he said. "Harley, Henshaw, you're with me. Let's party!" he giggled, kicking open the door to the reception room where the party was being held.

"Good evening, folks! I heard there was a party here tonight, and I assume my invitation was just lost in the mail!" he chuckled. "Because what cause can really be more important than seeing yours truly happy, am I right? Of course I am! So in the spirit of generosity which brings us all together here tonight, I'm accepting mandatory donations to the Joker, so he can keep spreading the smiles and laughter we all know and love. Harley, Henshaw – start collecting," he said, tossing them a couple sacks.

Harley studied the fear in the guests' eyes as they handed over their cash and valuables. She felt pity for them, pity and…a strange feeling of power, that they were so afraid of her, or at least of who she was working for, that they would give up their most precious possessions. She knew it was wrong to feel this way, just like it was wrong of her to have just gotten over seeing a man shot in the face, but she couldn't help how she felt. And she felt…exhilarated by it.

Clearly she had some psychological issues to examine once she resumed her normal life, she told herself. Once she stopped working undercover in the Joker's gang. Whenever that would be…

Her attention was diverted by the sound of a gunshot, and she looked up to see a man dropping to his knees, clutching his bleeding hand, as his gun fell to the floor next to him. "Oooh, we've got a hero in our midst!" chuckled Joker, grinning as he held up his smoking gun. "Good! I like it when I can make the party more interesting!"

Harley stared at the man – she recognized him. He was a police officer, a man called Callaghan, one of the men who had been at the briefing and the going-away party. She glanced at Henderson, whose face betrayed no recognition.

Joker snapped his fingers. "Henshaw, put down the loot and come here!" he commanded.

Henderson obeyed as Joker approached the fallen cop. He picked up the cop's gun, and then placed it in Henderson's hand. "Let's see your first kill," Joker murmured, gesturing at Callaghan.

Harley watched with bated breath as Henderson held the gun against Callaghan's forehead. His hand shook as Callaghan stared up at him, and then…

There was a crash as a caped figure smashed through the glass ceiling of the room, kicking at Henderson, knocking the gun from his hand and sending him flying across the room.

Joker grinned. "Well, trust you to crash the party, Batsy! Literally!" he giggled.

"Party's over, Joker," growled Batman. "You're coming back to Arkham, and you're staying there permanently!"

"When pigs fly!" giggled Joker. "Or maybe that should be, when bats die!" he laughed, ripping out his gun and firing at Batman, who darted across the room, dodging bullets. He ducked behind the bar and then suddenly stood up, Batarang primed.

"Look out!" shouted Harley, jumping protectively in front of Joker. It was an instinctive reaction, one she hadn't had time to think about, because she would have wondered what exactly she was thinking if she had. But she didn't think, she just acted, and then screamed when the Batarang hit her in the arm, slashing through her costume.

She fell to the ground, clutching her arm and gasping in pain, which was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Through tearful eyes, she glanced up at the Joker, who was looking down at her with an expressionless face. And then he turned and headed toward the door. "Grab the loot and let's get outta here!" he shouted at Henderson. And Harley knew then that what he had said about sacrificing henchmen was true, and that he was going to leave her behind and let Batman focus on her instead, so he would have time to get away. That was her job. She was expendable.

For some reason, that realization hurt her more than the pain in her arm, and she opened her mouth to say something, when she was suddenly grabbed around the waist and tossed over someone's shoulder. "Rocco, drive!" shouted Joker, who she realized was the man carrying her. A million questions assaulted her brain, the most pressing of which was why had he come back to get her? She saw Henderson close behind them, carrying the sacks of loot and gazing at her in concern, but then her vision grew hazy, the pain blocked out everything else, and she fainted.


	6. Chapter 6

She woke up in her room, her vision still swimming, although the pain had dulled. She looked down to see that her arm was bandaged and in a sling, and then she heard someone by her bed breathing a sigh of relief.

"You're awake," said Henderson, the worry in his eyes evident. "Thank God!"

She slowly sat up, wincing. "What happened?"

"You were wounded…not too badly," he reassured her. "It's a fairly deep cut but…it's not infected or anything. There'll probably be a scar though, and you won't be able to use that arm for a couple weeks."

"The Joker…came back to get me," she murmured, remembering.

"Yeah," agreed Henderson, nodding.

She looked at him. "Why?" she asked.

"You'll probably have to ask him," replied Henderson. "I don't know."

"Are _you_ ok?" she asked, remembering that he had almost been forced to kill a fellow police officer. "After…that thing with Callaghan?"

He bit his lip. "Yeah," he said. "I'm fine. Only…I dunno," he muttered, looking down at his hands. "I knew I'd have to do bad stuff being in the Joker's gang, committing crimes and stuff, but…having to kill a guy…like that…point blank…I don't think I could have done it, Harley. Especially not a guy I know, a guy I've worked with..."

"You have to gain his trust, Ernie," murmured Harley. "Or you're not gonna last. And the only way to do that is to be as bad as the rest of them."

"Yeah, I know," he agreed. "I just wish I was better at it, Harley. Like you, jumping in front of him and getting hurt yourself, all to make it look like you were loyal…I mean, you're a better undercover cop than me," he said, smiling at her. "The lengths you go to for the mission…well, I admire you more than I ever did before."

"Yeah," agreed Harley. "For the…mission."

She hadn't thought about the mission when she had jumped in front of him, though. She hadn't thought about anything. It had just been instinctive. Maybe she was just a better undercover agent than she thought, she reasoned, so much so that her instincts were trained to make her seem loyal.

There was a knock on her door, and Henderson went to answer it. "Patient up yet?" asked a familiar voice.

"Yes, sir," said Henderson, holding open the door for the Joker, who beamed at Harley.

"Yeah, she don't look much worse for wear!" he chuckled. "How ya feeling, kiddo?"

"Fine," said Harley. "The arm stings a little, but…apparently it was a deep cut."

"Yeah, those toys of Batsy's are really sharp," said Joker, nodding. "Surprised he hasn't accidentally killed more people with 'em, to be honest."

He turned to Henderson. "Why don't you get Harley some soup so she can get her strength back?"

"Yes, sir," repeated Henderson, glancing at Harley and then leaving them alone.

"I thought I was expendable," murmured Harley, adjusting her arm. "Why did you come back for me?"

He shrugged. "You took a Batarang for me. One good turn deserves another. And anyway, it's not like you were heavy to carry!" he chuckled. "If you were Rocco, I'd have just left you, or I'd never have got away! Besides, you hadn't had any fun yet, so I didn't feel like I'd fulfilled my part of the bargain. You came out on one operation which was busted by the Bat, and got a Batarang in your arm. If I'd left you there, chances are Bats would have taken you to prison and you'd have talked yourself outta the henchgirl gig forever. You'd have gone back to your mundane little shrink life and died slowly of boredom. Couldn't let that happen, toots, not when you joined up for fun and frolics. Gotta see you have some first before the Bat takes you away. I promised you that, at least."

She smiled. "Funny, you don't seem like the kinda guy who's concerned with keeping his promises."

"Why's that?" he asked. "I'm a man of my word, toots. No point in saying something and not following through on it – that's like setting up a joke and not giving the punchline."

"Yeah…speaking of that, sorry I couldn't be the getaway driver," she said, grinning.

He grinned back. "Well, Rocco did an ok job. For a guy, anyway."

She smiled. "Thank you," she said, sincerely. "For…coming back for me."

"Don't mention it, toots," he said, smiling and heading for the door. "Just rest up so you can use your arm again. No point in a one-armed lackey, so if you don't get recover, I'm dumping you, promise or no promise. So get better or else, you got it?"

"Yes, sir," she said, grinning.

He left her and she felt a strange, tingling happiness well up in her stomach, for some reason. Which was a bizarre way to feel, and probably due to some medication she'd been given, she reasoned. She reached under her pillow and pulled out her notebook, trying to write down her observations of the Joker clinically, as her professionalism as a doctor demanded.

Henderson re-entered a few minutes later with a steaming bowl of soup. "Thanks," said Harley, as he helped her sit up.

"What are you writing?" he asked, gesturing to the notebook.

"My personal observations about the Joker," she explained. "I'm treating this whole operation as a psychological experiment, and he's my patient, so I'm writing down my interactions with him. Plus it'll be useful stuff to pass on to Gordon about how he thinks and behaves."

"Have you learned anything new about him that you haven't read already?" asked Henderson.

"Oh yeah," said Harley. "Lots of stuff."

"Like what?" he asked. "To me he seems just the way you and everyone else always described him – random and psychopathic and cruel and heartless. Treating life and death as a joke and a game. What else could you have learned about him?"

She shrugged. "Nothing important," she said, putting the notebook away. "Boy, those painkillers you gave me must be having an effect – I feel a lot better now."

"I didn't give you any painkillers," said Henderson, puzzled. "I just brought you some with the soup," he said, gesturing to a couple pills next to her glass of water.

"Oh," she said. "Well, maybe it's a sign that it's healing already."

That had to be it, she reassured herself. She had resolved to get better, and her body was already complying. The human mind was strong like that. And there was nothing willpower couldn't overcome.


	7. Chapter 7

"We're going on another job tonight," said Henderson, as he sat next to Harley's bed a few nights later. Her arm was feeling much better, but it still wasn't usable without a great deal of pain, and so the Joker had insisted that she sit this operation out.

"I know," she said, spearing her dinner angrily. "But the boss says I can't come."

"Would you want to?" he asked, surprised. "I dread having to face another ordeal like last time."

She shrugged. "It helps gain his trust, Ernie." She didn't tell him the real reason, which was that she found the idea and practice of committing crimes exciting.

"When are you leaving?" she asked.

"Couple hours," he said.

"Where are the other guys?" she asked, taking another bite of her dinner.

"Out in the lounge," he said.

"You should be with them," she said. "Making friends, blending in…"

"Well, I'd…rather be with you, Harley," he said, sincerely.

"It'll be best if people don't think we're too cozy," said Harley. "For the sake of the mission, y'know. Anyway, I'll come with you," she said, standing up and taking her plate in her good arm. "I feel like being sociable after being stuck in this room for days on end."

He sighed, following her out of the room. She heard the sounds of the TV coming from down the hall, and they entered the lounge to see some of the men watching a sitcom with canned laughter on the TV, while Rocco and Jerry were playing a game of darts, the board of which was Batman's face.

"A hundred points if you hit him in the eye," said Harley, nodding at the Batman picture.

"Harley, you're up!" said Rocco, happily. "How you feeling?"

"Like I wanna throw a dart in the real Batman's eye the next time I see him," she said, taking a seat at the table and continuing her dinner. "But otherwise not too bad."

"We were all really worried about you," said Rocco, handing his darts to Henderson and sitting down next to her. "I said we should buy you some flowers and a card or something, but the others thought that might be too much…"

"It would have been," retorted Jerry. "For a cut arm? Remember what the boss said – we're supposed to treat her like one of the guys. And we wouldn't get each other flowers and a card for a little scratch. Although maybe that's why you shouldn't let women in the henching game – they make little scratches into huge deals."

"Have I complained to you, or anyone?" she demanded.

"Only because you've been in your room," he retorted. "Believe me, I know women. All they do is complain and yammer, and yammer and complain."

"That's just your wife, Jerry, 'cause she's a nag," retorted Rocco.

"Is she ever," growled Jerry, throwing a dart at Batman's face.

"I didn't know you were married, Jerry," said Harley. "Funny, I think your wife probably got the worse end of that deal."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, as Rocco snorted in laughter.

She grinned. "Don't wanna annoy you by yammering, Jerry, so I ain't gonna explain it to you," she said smugly, taking another bite of her dinner.

He growled, throwing another dart. "You know what's worse than a nagging dame? A smartass dame," he muttered.

Harley looked around the room. "Where's the boss?" she asked, casually.

"Working in his study," said Rocco. "Putting the finishing touches on his plan for tonight. Anyway, he don't usually mingle with us. Got a lot of stuff going on in his head and he doesn't like to be distracted from it by casual chit chat."

"Oh," said Harley, slightly disappointed. "Has he ever…taken an interest in anyone?" she asked, slowly.

"How do you mean?" asked Rocco.

"Like…I dunno," she said. "Had anyone special…in his life."

"You mean aside from Batman?" laughed Jerry. "Not likely. Doesn't have time for anyone else anyway, with all the attention he devotes to the caped freak."

"But he's never…cared about a woman? Or a man?" she added, hastily. "Aside from Batman."

Rocco shook his head. "The boss don't care about people. It's just not something he does. He's like a genius, y'see, and a lotta times really smart people like that don't have the same feelings or emotions as normal people. Guess the price you pay for having a bigger brain is having less of a heart."

"I guess so," said Harley, nodding.

Jerry swore as Henderson threw his darts. "Dammit, I hate this game!" he snapped, throwing down his darts on the table.

"Can I play?" asked Harley, reaching for them.

"No," he snapped, grabbing them again. "You'll miss the target and put somebody's eye out, and then we'll have a real injury on our hands!"

"There's nothing wrong with my aim," snapped Harley.

"Yeah? I bet you couldn't hit the broadside of a barn!" snapped Jerry.

She stood up, and Henderson handed his darts to her. "I'll bet you I can hit both the Bat's eyes, and his pointy nose in three shots," she snapped.

Jerry snorted. "Fifty bucks," he said, slapping a few bills onto the table.

Harley went to go fetch her purse. "Make it a hundred – I don't have change," she said, throwing a hundred dollar bill on the table. "Or ain't you got the balls for that?"

"Of the two of us, sweetheart, I ain't the one without balls," growled Jerry, throwing more money on the table. "Hundred it is. Go ahead," he said, bowing out of her way as she squared up to the dart board.

The room had hushed and the volume on the TV was turned down as all eyes fixed on Harley. She took a deep breath, eyeing the picture of Batman and then drawing the dart back. She threw it, and it hit him squarely in his right eye. The next one hit him squarely in the left eye, and the final one landed in the bullseye on his nose. The whole room burst into cheering and applause, except for Jerry, who looked as if someone had just punched him in the gut.

She smiled, handing the darts back to Henderson. "My Dad owned a bar back in Brooklyn. I learned to play darts when I learned how to walk," she said, grabbing the two hundred dollars.

"What's going on here?" asked a voice from the doorway. They turned to see the Joker standing there, alerted by the noise.

"Jerry bet Harley a hundred bucks she couldn't hit the Bat," said Rocco, nodding at the board. "He lost."

"Yeah?" said Joker, coming over to the board. "Can you shoot a gun with that much accuracy, kiddo?" he asked, turning to her.

She shrugged. "Depends on the gun, I guess."

He nodded. "C'mon, I wanna see," he said, grabbing her good arm and pulling her out of the lounge and down to another room. This served as a temporary shooting range, with targets of Batman tacked to the wall and numerous bullet holes surrounding them.

Joker shoved his gun into her hand, and then pulled her back a distance from the target. "Aim for the head," he said.

She nodded, taking a deep breath and drawing her line of sight down the gun. Then she pulled the trigger. The bullet buried itself about three inches away from the head.

"Not bad," he said. "Try relaxing more – don't be afraid of the gun. It ain't gonna hurt you, just the people attacking you!" he chuckled.

She nodded, about to try again. "And hold it…kinda like this," he said, reaching up to adjust her hand around the gun. "Gently. Be comfortable with it…"

He stroked her thumb along the handle, wrapping his hand softly around hers. Harley felt her heart speeding up.

"Yeah, that's it," he said, feeling her hand relaxing against his. "Get a feel for it. Nice and comfy. Touch it like a…"

He trailed off. "Like a what?" she murmured.

"Like a…pet or something," he muttered. "I dunno - something you're gentle and comfortable with."

"A…lover?" she whispered.

"Whatever metaphor you want – it's up to you," he said, shrugging. "Whatever helps. Now aim and fire."

She obeyed, the bullet burying itself directly in Batman's skull. "Nice work, kiddo," he said, beaming. "Dunno if it was the pet or lover imagery that did it, but keep thinking about that whenever you shoot."

"I will," she said, gazing at him. She shook her head, handing the gun back to him. "I will. Uh…good luck on the job tonight. Hope it goes well, and uh…I wish I could be there."

"I wish you could too, kiddo, to test out your new shooting skills!" he chuckled. "But it's gonna be an easy peasy bank robbery anyway – you wouldn't want to waste your time even if you weren't laid up. They ain't always very fun – no challenge, y'see. And the fun's in the challenge."

She nodded. "Well, I'll…see you later," she said, leaving him and heading back to the lounge. She needed to be away from him, to get her head together, because she seemed to be thinking weird thoughts when he was around. She didn't know why that could be – maybe some of his madness was infectious. But she didn't want to be crazy right now.

"Jerry, lemme get you a beer to show there's no hard feelings," she said, re-entering the lounge.

"Oh…thanks, Harley," said Jerry, surprised.

"I'll have one too," she said, grabbing two out of the fridge. "Need to relax and…get my head together."

"Yeah, you're rich now!" laughed Rocco. "Don't spend it all in one place, Harley!"

She laughed, trying to enjoy her time with the guys and trying to forget what she had been thinking. It had just been crazy.


	8. Chapter 8

She heard the door bang open and the sound of laughter much later that night. She stopped writing in her notebook, threw it under her pillow, and then raced out into the hallway.

"How did it go?" she asked as the henchmen piled into the hideout with sacks of loot.

"Jackpot!" exclaimed Rocco, holding up two huge bags.

"How much did you get?" she asked, as the bags just kept piling up in the hallway.

"Too much to count!" laughed Jerry. "We took 'em to the cleaners! The cops were too late to stop us, and not a Bat in sight!"

"That's great!" said Harley, and it took her a moment to realize that she actually shouldn't be excited that a bank had just been robbed. "Uh…where's the boss?" she asked as Henderson entered last, shutting the door behind him.

"Oh, he already went in around the back way," said Rocco, nodding. "Likes to be alone in his study after a successful operation, so he can gloat to himself or celebrate by himself or something."

"Oh. Well, congrats, boys!" said Harley, hugging them each in turn. "This almost makes getting my arm hurt worth it!"

They all laughed. "C'mon, we got champagne in the fridge!" said Jerry, putting an arm around her. "Why doncha celebrate with us, sweetheart?"

"Getting me drunk won't do you any good, Jerry - you still got no chance," said Harley, grinning, and everyone laughed again, heading off to the lounge. Harley was about to join them when she realized that Henderson was lagging behind again.

"What's wrong?" she asked, quietly.

"Had to…uh…kill some security guards," muttered Henderson. "But the boss was pleased. I'm finally a man now," he said, glaring at the gun in his hand.

"Aw, gee, Ernie, I'm sorry," whispered Harley. "But you gotta pretend to be ok with it, huh? For the sake of the mission."

"Yeah," he nodded. "For the sake of the mission. I'm gonna need a drink anyway," he sighed, following her to the lounge.

Rocco had shaken up the champagne which spilled everywhere when he uncorked it, soaking everyone. Harley knew she should have been more sympathetic to Henderson's dark mood, but she was really torn between enjoying the celebration, and jealous that she'd missed out on a successful operation. Which was terribly wrong, her mind reminded her, but that voice was easier to silence after a few glasses of champagne.

The celebration died down a couple hours later, and everyone headed off to bed. Harley wished Henderson goodnight with a hug and kiss on his cheek for support, and then headed to her room. She glanced down the hall, and couldn't help noticing that light and muffled music was still coming from under the door of the Joker's study.

She didn't know what possessed her, aside from a lot of champagne, but she suddenly found herself outside his study door and knocking.

"Come in!" he said, cheerfully.

She opened the door to see him lounging on a sofa, looking very relaxed – his normally slicked back green hair was slightly disheveled, and his bowtie was undone, along with a few buttons on his shirt. He held a cigarette in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other, and on the table in front of him was a huge stack of gold, jewels, and valuables, which his bright eyes studied gleefully.

The music was coming from an old record player in the corner, which was currently blaring a Frank Sinatra album. "Harley, what a pleasant surprise!" he said, smiling at her and puffing on his cigarette. "Come in, come in! Hope you've been enjoying the celebrations, same as the boys!"

"Yes, sir," she said, shutting the door behind her. "Though I'm sorry to have missed out on a successful piece of action like that."

"Your turn will come, trust me," he chuckled, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "Once the old arm is better."

"That's kinda what I came to tell you," she said, holding it up and moving it around. "I think it's back to normal now, so I can definitely come on the next job."

"Or you've had too much champagne, and that's dulled the feeling in your arm," he laughed. "But I like your enthusiasm, kiddo. As usual."

She nodded, about to turn and leave. "You don't have to go," he said, suddenly. "Have another glass of champagne, if you can stomach it," he said, pouring a glass for her.

"Like I told the guys, my Dad owned a bar back in Brooklyn," she said, sitting down next to him and taking the glass. "I ain't a lightweight, despite my build."

"I knew you were from Brooklyn!" he chuckled, puffing on his cigarette. "But sometimes you soften your accent – I dunno if that's intentional."

"Uh…yeah," she said. "When I started practicing psychiatry, people told me it wasn't very professional to sound…the way I did. So I tried to get rid of my accent and fit in."

"Why the hell would you ever wanna do that?" asked Joker, puzzled.

"What, fit in?" she asked.

"That, but especially fitting in by changing who you are," he retorted. "Or at least pretending to. I think that's the worst thing I've ever heard."

"This from a man who has murdered thousands of people," she replied, grinning.

"Tens of thousands," he corrected, smiling as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Some people would call that crazy," she said.

"Sticks and stones," he said, shrugging. "I ain't the one pretending to be something I'm not. Or at least, the one who used to do that. I don't think you're doing that now. I think this is who you are, and you're thriving in this kinda lifestyle, Harley Quinn."

"Yeah…no arguments here," she said, sincerely, sipping her champagne. "I didn't think I'd enjoy it…as much as I am. It started out as just a crazy whim…"

"So do all the best things, toots!" he chuckled. "That's what people don't tell you about life. They tell you to work hard, keep your nose to the grindstone, and be sensible, but they should tell you to listen to the crazy whims, and the voices in your head, because that's how you do great things. You only get one life, and you might as well live it."

"Yeah," Harley said, nodding. They both drank their champagne in silence for a moment. "Funny…I didn't peg you for a Sinatra fan," she said, nodding at the record.

"Why not?" he asked.

"It's just…weird," she said. "You get this idea in your head from the newspapers and magazines of you being this unfeeling, homicidal maniac, almost…inhuman. So it's kinda odd to think of you just sitting here enjoying listening to Sinatra. That seems so…normal by comparison."

He shrugged. "Even a homicidal maniac has enough taste to enjoy Ol' Blue Eyes," he said.

"I guess I'm just not used to thinking of you as…well…a living, thinking, feeling human being yet," she said. "Sorry if that sounds harsh, but…you're not really what I expected."

He laughed. "Well, that makes two of us, Harley Quinn," he said, smiling at her.

They fell silent again, sipping their champagne, and Harley felt her heart hammering against her chest. She was grateful for the music, because she was afraid he could hear it otherwise.

He put down his glass suddenly, stamping out the cigarette. "Where are my manners?" he said, standing up and holding out his arms. "Miss Quinn, would you like to dance?"

She stared at him. "I…didn't know you could dance," she said, putting down her glass and entering his waiting arms. He pulled her close, and they began waltzing slowly.

"Guess you don't know everything about me," he murmured, grinning.

"I…guess not," she agreed, trying to keep her tone casual, although truthfully the nearness of his body was making her uncomfortable, in the best sense.

"Mind you, sometimes there are things_ I_ don't know about me," he chuckled. "And then I can surprise myself. Makes things interesting."

She smiled, her heart pounding louder than ever. They didn't speak for a while, just dancing and listening to the crooner singing _I'm A Fool To Want You_.

"This is…this is nice," she stammered at last, feeling she had to say something to break the spell of the music and the dancing and the champagne. "Everything that's happened since I joined your gang has been…very nice."

"Except for the whole Batarang to the arm!" he chuckled.

"Yeah," she agreed, grinning. "But when I think about…what my life used to be like…and compare it to what it is now…well, I sometimes think I wasn't even living before. I went to work, day after day, following the same old routine and feeling…nothing."

"And now?" he asked.

"Now every day's an exciting adventure," she said. "And I feel…lots of things," she whispered, gazing at him.

"Good things, I hope," he said.

"I…uh…dunno," she stammered. "I don't really know if it's good or bad…I only know that I want it."

He met her eyes, and the champagne, the music, and everything else faded away as their lips almost unconsciously moved toward each other. Their mouths met, and Harley lost herself in his kiss. She drew her arms around his neck, pulling him close, as he tenderly explored her lips.

They drew apart at last, breathing heavily. "Uh…sorry…too much…too much champagne, I guess," stammered Harley. "Sorry…"

"Yeah, I guess," he murmured, smiling at her. "But you don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

She stared back at him. "You…you wanted to…kiss me?"

"Yeah, but I didn't wanna kiss Rocco," he sighed. "And after that speech I gave the guys about you being exactly equal, I didn't want to break my own rules. But even a blind man could see that you're not at all like the other guys," he chuckled, picking up his champagne glass again. "Hope you're not offended or anything – I won't do it again if you don't wanna."

She gazed at him. "And…if I wanna?" she whispered.

He grinned. "Then I'll do it again," he murmured, leaning forward. Harley returned the kiss with passion, feeling every inch of her body throbbing with life. This was wrong, kissing a murdering psychopath, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything else but this moment, this wonderful, perfect moment where she felt nothing but pure, exquisite joy.

"I should…I should go," she stammered when they drew apart at last. "I think we're probably…both a little drunk and…saying and doing things we wouldn't normally say or do and…I don't wanna do anything…I might regret tomorrow."

He released her gently. "Ok," he said. "Then I'll see you tomorrow, Harley Quinn. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she said, backing toward the door. "And congrats on the job again and…and…thanks for the champagne and…the kiss. Kisses."

He grinned. "You're welcome, Harley Quinn. Go drink some water now. You don't want a hangover in the morning."

"No, I'll go do that," she said, nodding. "I will…uh…thanks. Again. For everything. Night."

She left him and shut the door, returning to her room in a daze. And she didn't have a chance to think about the events anymore that night, since the alcohol caught up with her the moment she lay down, and she was asleep when her head hit the pillow.


	9. Chapter 9

She woke up the next day with a splitting headache that almost blocked all thoughts from her memory. But not all thoughts, she realized with a lurch, as she remembered what had happened between her and the Joker last night.

"God, how drunk was I?" she muttered, sitting up and massaging her temples. "And he…he must have been completely plastered, to even have considered…I mean, he doesn't have any interest in…people!"

A loud knocking on her door made another stab of pain shoot through her head. "Oh God…come in!" she shouted.

"Harley, you better get out into the lounge now," said Henderson, opening her door. "The boss wants all the guys there for some kinda post-operation analysis."

"But…I didn't even come on the operation!" she muttered.

"He just wants everyone there – he's been calling your phone repeatedly," said Henderson.

Harley glanced at the several missed calls, and then sighed. "All right, I'm up," she muttered.

She entered the lounge to see that most of the henchmen shared her current hungover state – it looked like a gathering of zombies. All except the Joker, who looked his usual, chipper self.

"Morning, Harley," he said, casually. "Where you been?"

"Asleep," she replied.

"That's no excuse for ignoring my phone calls, is it?" he asked.

"Sorry, boss, I just…had a lot to drink," she stammered. "As I'm sure you know…"

"I expect the people who work for me to be ready for work when I call them," he snapped. "No excuses. Remember that in the future, Harley, or you'll be punished."

"Yes…sir," she stammered, taken aback by his anger. Especially after last night.

Rocco passed her a cup of coffee and she sat down, trying to conceal her hurt feelings.

"Now we'll start reviewing the operation from the beginning again, since Harley has finally decided to grace us with her presence," said Joker.

"Don't repeat it for my benefit, boss," retorted Harley. "I didn't even take part in the operation."

Joker looked at her and then said, lightly, "Harley, I'd like a word in private, please."

She stood up, following him out of the room, and was shocked when he struck her across the face. "That's a warning!" he hissed. "Don't talk back to me ever again!"

"Sorry…boss!" she stammered, shocked and hurt. "I didn't mean…"

"You think I don't know you didn't come on the operation?" he demanded. "But I want you to hear the briefing so you don't make some of the stupid mistakes the boys did last night!"

"They ain't the only ones who made mistakes last night," she muttered, glaring up at him.

He glared back. "Well, like you said, we were both drunk, and saying and doing things we wouldn't normally say or do," he muttered. "When your inhibitions are lowered like that, I guess even I can do stupid things."

Tears shot into Harley's eyes. Everyone had been right – he didn't feel anything for people. She was an idiot to have thought…

"What I said when I was sober was true, Harley," he snapped. "You're no different to the guys, and you don't get any special treatment. So don't start thinking you deserve any just because we might have fooled around last night. You're not special, you got that?"

"Yes…sir," she whispered.

He left her without another word, re-entering the room and slamming the door. Harley followed, the sting in her heart hurting much more than the sting in her face where he had hit her. She sat down again, sipping her coffee and trying to listen to the briefing, but it was as much as she could do to hold back tears.

The moment the Joker dismissed them, she raced off to her room and shut the door. Then she collapsed onto the bed, sobbing. Her mind was reprimanding her, telling her that pain was what she deserved for having feelings for a man like that, a murderous psychopath, who didn't feel anything for anyone. Why would she have been so stupid to think that she could change that, that she, out of all thousands of people he had killed, could be special to him?

She stopped crying at last, wiping her eyes and pulling out her notebook. _Subject Joker is incapable of tender feelings_ she wrote, as a true observation, and to remind herself. _He does not care about people. He does not love people. That must be completely understood. There is no feeling in his heart._

She reread the last few sentences repeatedly, as a mandate to herself, and then began reading them out loud, over and over, like a lesson she was forcing herself to remember.

There was a knock on her door. "Come in," she said, her heart suddenly clinging to the hope that it was the Joker, that he had come to apologize…

But it was Henderson who stood there, and her heart fell, and almost broke again. "Just wanted to see how you were feeling," he said. "You looked really rough out there at the briefing. And your cheek's red…" he said.

"Yeah, he hit me for talking back," muttered Harley.

Henderson stared at her. "He hit you?" he repeated.

"Yeah. He's a jerk," she said, casually.

"Are you ok? Can I get you an ice pack or something? Do you want…"

"Ernie, it's fine," she interrupted. "I was just hit, ok? Not even very hard - I'm not gonna be a girl and cry about it. Don't make it out to be a huge deal. Don't make it out to be…more than it was," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "That's a stupid thing to do."

He nodded slowly. "Well…if you're sure…I guess I'll go."

He shut the door, leaving her alone. She looked down at her notebook again and whispered, with tears trailing down her cheeks, "There is no feeling in his heart."


	10. Chapter 10

"So that's the plan – see you in the car in ten minutes," said the Joker a few nights later. He left the lounge, and the henchmen began milling about collecting weapons and explosives. Harley had offered to help, but the guys had insisted that they could manage, so she just went to the car again.

She entered the garage and heard someone say, "Harley."

She turned to see the Joker standing by the car. "Boss?" she said, casually.

"Lemme see your arm," he said, approaching her. "I don't want you to screw up this mission for everyone by making you go into action too soon."

She glared at him, but pulled her sleeve up. "Don't you worry about me, boss," she retorted. "I ain't gonna screw things up again."

He grabbed her arm, bending it backwards and forwards and watching Harley's reaction. She didn't even flinch, just stared coldly back at him.

"Good," he said, releasing her. "That seems satisfactory."

She nodded, opening the car door. "If it ain't your arm, what is it?" he asked, suddenly.

"What is what?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"What's bothering you?" he asked. "You ain't been your usual cheerful, perky, happy self for a few days now. Is something wrong?"

She looked at him. "No, sir," she murmured. "Nothing's wrong. Things are exactly how they should be. Aren't they?"

"You tell me!" he laughed. "I ain't the one being gloomy!"

She shrugged. "Maybe I got a problem with my heart or something," she muttered. "Not that you'd know what that feels like."

She climbed into the car and was about to slam the door, when he caught it. "You're being moody over some guy, is that it?" he asked. "Henshaw?"

She stared at him. "You really don't know, do you?" she whispered.

"Don't know what?" he asked.

"How I feel about…" she trailed off, looking up at him.

"Yes?" he pressed.

She couldn't finish the sentence, she couldn't do anything but gaze at him. And she suddenly saw the slow realization sink into his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond when the door to the garage opened and the henchmen piled in, and that was that. She could see the gears in his brain reverting back to the operation, and he shut her door, heading over to the driver's seat.

The target was the Gotham Natural History Museum, which had recently acquired several priceless gemstones called the Royal Flush Collection. The security was easy enough to get past – take out the men and deactivate the alarms in the guardhouse outside. The Joker didn't even get out of the car for that – he just sent Jerry and Henderson to do it. They gave the all clear signal, and Joker piled out of the car with Harley and Rocco following him.

He kicked open the door to the museum and everyone followed him inside. It didn't take a genius to figure out which ones were the Royal Flush gems – they had been raised on a special pedestal, huge red stones that shone brightly in the moonlight.

Without further ado, Joker used a crowbar to smash the glass, grabbing the gems and throwing them into a bag. And that was when the alarm started blaring, and the gates crashed down, cutting off the room from the rest of the museum.

"I set up my own personal alarm," said a voice, as a dark figure stepped out of the shadows, holding up a tiny, beeping bat-shaped gadget. "I knew you couldn't resist temptation like that."

"Aw, you know me too well, Batsy!" chuckled Joker, beaming as the henchmen and Harley all pulled out guns. "But you're blocking my exit, so I'm gonna have to ask you politely to move."

"This is your last chance," said Batman. "Hand over the gems and come quietly."

Joker pretended to consider. "Nope, that doesn't work for me, Bats," he said at last, grinning. "Here's a better idea: move or I'll blow your pointy head off," he growled, pulling out his own gun.

Batman glared at him, and then suddenly dropped a smoke pellet, disappearing into the air. The smoke choked and blinded everyone, and Harley struggled to keep a lookout for the Bat.

She heard a cry, and then saw that a dark figure had landed on Rocco, knocking him to the ground. She fired at it, but it had disappeared a second later.

She ducked behind a pillar, feeling her heart hammering in her chest. This was dangerous and exciting, and she liked it. She looked around carefully for the Bat, accidentally bumping into someone. "Sorry…boss," she stammered, when she saw who it was, but he put a finger to his lips, gesturing upward with his gun. She understood, and they both began firing into the shadows above them.

Batman dropped down onto the Joker, slamming his face into the ground. Harley fired at Batman, but he threw a Batarang at her hand, sending her gun sailing across the floor. He continued to beat Joker, and Harley felt rage well up in the pit of her stomach. Desperate to do something, she leapt onto Batman's back with a shriek, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and trying to rip him back.

Batman choked, climbing off Joker as he attempted to prise Harley off him. He managed to rip her arms from his neck, and then threw her away from him, sending her spinning across the room. She hit a pillar, winded, but struggled to her feet as she saw Batman pounce on Joker again. She looked around for her gun, or any weapon really, and that's when she spotted the barrier poles set up around the exhibit.

She unhooked one of the poles from the velvet rope and then hurried over to Batman. He was handcuffing Joker's hands behind his back as she approached from behind, raised the pole over her head, and brought it down hard on Batman's skull.

He reeled from the force of the blow, and she beat him again and again, until he collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Harley put down the pole, panting. "You ok, boss?" she asked.

"Yeah…" he said, standing up and slipping out of the handcuffs. "C'mon, let's roll before he wakes up. Boys! Car!" he shouted to the rest of the henchmen, who raced out of the museum.

"Harley, you wanna be the getaway driver?" asked Joker as he jumped into the passenger seat, clutching the bag with the gems tightly.

She grinned. "I'd love to, boss," she said, climbing into the driver's seat. They sped off into the streets of Gotham, as the Joker burst into a hysterical, uncontrollable bout of laughter. And despite everything, Harley couldn't help laughing too.


	11. Chapter 11

"Got the pizza!" called Jerry cheerfully, as he kicked open the door to the hideout.

"Just in time, Jerry – we're just about to see if we made the news!" said Harley, as he dumped the stack of pizza onto the table in the lounge. The rest of the henchmen were gathered around the TV and began grabbing boxes and passing them around.

"Got the beers too!" said Henderson, who was doing a good job feigning cheerfulness as he added four six-packs onto the table.

"C'mon, Roc, have a beer and you'll feel better," said Harley, handing him a can as Rocco held an icepack to his swollen jaw. He smiled at her.

"Thanks, Harley. Don't you want one?"

"Nah. I sometimes do…stupid things when I drink," she said, shrugging. "I'm gonna avoid alcohol for a while, especially after that last hangover!" she laughed. "I'll just stick to pizza," she said, grabbing a box and putting it on her lap.

"I'll take a slice," said a voice behind them, and everyone turned in astonishment to see the Joker standing in the doorway.

"Uh…sure, boss," said Rocco, standing up and offering him his pizza, and his seat. "Help yourself. Uh…nice that you wanna join us…"

"I wanna watch the news," he said, taking Rocco's seat next to Harley. "And the TV in my study's busted ever since I punched a hole through the screen with a boxing glove gun."

Nobody really knew how to respond to that, but fortunately they didn't have to, since the news started at that moment. "Our top story tonight, a daring robbery of the Royal Flush gems from the Natural History Museum, perpetrated by the Joker and leaving Batman beaten senseless…"

Everyone cheered, raising their beers, and Harley smiled at the footage of Batman being helped off the floor, and getting shakily to his feet.

She suddenly felt a hand on her knee. It took her a moment to process that that hand belonged to the Joker, and she glanced at him, feeling her heart speeding up. He didn't seem to notice her staring – his attention seemed to be focused on the TV.

And then she felt his hand sliding up, and her heart began to beat uncontrollably. She didn't know if she should say something, or remove his hand, but she didn't – she let him continue, trying to control her breathing.

His hand rested on her thigh without proceeding any further, but she felt him give her a squeeze. She continued to stare at him, breathing heavily, and his eyes met hers at last. He smiled, and she found she couldn't say a word.

She didn't understand what he was doing. Was this a game? She didn't understand it if so. But it had to be – either that or he was sincerely…coming on to her. And the Joker didn't do that. The Joker didn't have any interest in people or women or sex…

She felt him removing his hand, and to her surprise, she reached out and seized it, replacing it on her thigh. He looked at her and she looked back, not saying a word.

Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Come and see me later."

And he stood up and left. She stared after him, stunned. What had he meant by that? Was she in trouble? Maybe he hadn't wanted her to beat Batman…maybe that had been a mistake. Maybe he was playing with her – confusing her with mixed signals to lure her into a false sense of security, and then planning to punish her for what she had done – that sounded like one of his jokes. Only one way to find out, though.

She slipped away from the party, shaking in nervousness. "Get it together, Harl," she whispered to herself. "Whatever he's got planned can't be that bad…"

But she knew that wasn't true. She'd read about the ways the Joker punished his subordinates for failure, or for displeasing him. It wasn't pretty.

Her hand was shaking as she knocked on the door to his room. "Come in," he said.

She obeyed. "You wanted to see me, boss?" she asked.

The lights in the room were dim, and the shadow cast from the lamps hid his face from view – all she could see was his silhouette, and occasional puffs of smoke from his cigarette.

"Come in, Harley," he said. She obeyed, her body quivering like a leaf as she stood in front of him.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You're shaking," he commented.

She nodded. "I'm…a little afraid, I guess, sir."

"Afraid?" he repeated. "Of me?"

She nodded again. "Why would you think I'd want to hurt you?" he asked.

"I…I dunno," she stammered. "You're the Joker, I guess, and when you ain't pleased by your lackeys you can sometimes be…cruel."

He put out the cigarette. "And why would you think I was displeased by you?" he asked quietly.

"Well, I…I dunno," she repeated. "Just how you wanted me to come and see you…I thought I might be in trouble."

His grin shone in the lamplight as he chuckled. "Maybe you are, Harley Quinn," he whispered, standing up. "Maybe you are."

He approached her and her shaking grew worse. She flinched as he cupped her face in both his hands.

And then he kissed her. Harley was taken aback by the force of it, but she quickly adapted, responding to the eager demands of his mouth. It was the most thrilling kiss she had ever experienced in her life. Maybe some of it was because the man she was kissing was the most dangerous supercriminal in the world, but she had to credit his skill as well. His mouth was like a hungry animal, devouring hers, and she was its willing and eager prey.

"You…you haven't had any alcohol tonight, have you?" she asked when he drew away at last.

He shook his head. "Haven't touched a drop."

"Me neither," she whispered. "So this ain't just…a drunken whim 'cause of too much champagne?"

He shook his head. "Nah. This is one of those crazy whims that makes life worth living."

She beamed at him, throwing herself into his arms again. He lifted her easily, pressing kisses all over her face and neck as he carried her over to the bed.

"Mmm…boss…maybe we should…" began Harley as he pressed her down, climbing on top of her.

"Yes?" he whispered.

"Maybe we should…not…"

"Yes?" he repeated, drawing away from her slightly and looking at her.

She took a deep breath, looking down at her hands, as her rational mind bombarded her with questions and hesitations – this man was a murdering psychopath, who didn't have any feelings for other people. Getting involved with him was dangerous and stupid, and incredibly unprofessional, since she was both working undercover against him and ostensibly working for him.

She looked up to tell him something along those lines, or think up some excuse, but the moment their eyes met, all her objections vanished instantly, replaced by a fierce, burning desire for this man, and only this man.

She grinned. "Aw, the heck with it!" she gasped, grabbing him and pulling him down on top of her.


	12. Chapter 12

Harley awoke in his arms the next day, and for a moment just enjoyed the feeling of his body against hers. Then her eyes snapped open as she realized what had happened last night. She had slept with the Joker.

And although she knew she should have been appalled by her actions, she didn't feel anything but happy as she rolled over gently to look at him, his white face calm and relaxed in sleep. This had never been part of her job to infiltrate the Joker's gang – this had been completely unprofessional. But she didn't care, she realized, as he stirred suddenly and tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer.

He opened his eyes. "Morning," he said, smiling at her.

"Uh…morning," she said, trying to keep her head, although it was difficult with his body and his smile. "Uh…look, boss, what happened last night…I'm not sure that should happen again. Ain't very professional, y'know, me working for you and…sleeping with you. Maybe we should just consider it…y'know…a mistake or something, and make sure we don't do anything like it again…"

He silenced her with a kiss, and she returned it, her objections evaporating instantly.

"Mmm…or not," she said instead, grinning at him as he drew away.

"That's better," he chuckled. "If I didn't know better, baby, I'd say you were dissatisfied with your service last night, with talk like that."

"Well, you know that ain't true," she whispered, smiling.

"I'm glad," he said, kissing her again.

"I just never thought…you were that into…y'know…sex," she murmured. "I didn't want to think of what happened as a mistake."

He took her hand, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing the back of it. "I wasn't that interested in it," he murmured. "Guess I just needed to meet the right woman."

She beamed, kissing him. "Well, I hope you're not gonna do what we did last night to Rocco and the guys, since we're equal and all," she said, grinning.

He laughed. "You know I can't live by my own rules when it comes to you, baby," he said, kissing her nose. He stood up, throwing on his robe. "Anyway, this is good for your morale, and let no one say I don't care about my lackeys' morale."

"Is that why you wanted to do it?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows. "To improve my morale?"

"Well, you're looking a lot happier today, which is a vast improvement over your mood the past few days," he said. "Guess we'll have to keep this up, since this is the only way to keep you happy, Harley Quinn. Otherwise you'll be all gloomy and miserable again, and we can't have that. There'll be dissension in the ranks."

"Mmm, aren't you a good leader?" she asked, grinning. "Never thinking of yourself, just the people beneath you."

He smiled, bending down to kiss her. "I'm gonna get you some breakfast – don't move a muscle," he said, putting his hands in the shape of a picture frame. "I want you waiting for me just like that when I come back, all wrapped up in the sheets like a yummy piece of cotton candy. And just as tasty," he said, kissing her again.

"Yes, sir," she said, smiling at him.

"That's my good little henchwench," he whispered, kissing her again. "Not a muscle moved now, or there'll be spankings!" he said, leaving her.

She giggled as the door shut and rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling and smiling at the memories of last night. Rationally she didn't know what the heck she was doing, but irrationally, she didn't care. Last night had been the most incredible experience of her life, and she loved it too much to stop now, no matter how stupid and dangerous it might be.

She heard the door open and quickly rolled back onto her elbows. "You better not have moved!" chuckled Joker, balancing two mugs of coffee and two bowls of chocolate cereal.

"No, sir," she said, smiling.

"Hmm…I think you have a little," he said, putting down the breakfast on the bedside table. "Better have a spanking just in case."

She squeaked happily as he slapped her bottom, climbing back into bed. She sat up, taking a bowl of cereal and eating it.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked. "It's kinda silly, but I…really wanna know."

He shrugged. "Shoot," he said, taking a spoonful of his own cereal.

"Why me?" she asked. "I mean, you've never shown any…interest in anyone before, not like this anyway. Or if you have, you haven't acted on it, at least not that I know of…so…what is it about me that makes me…special? Why do you want me?"

He shrugged again. "Your fault. You appear in this clown getup, skintight too, no less, don't think I didn't notice," he added, grinning. "It's like you've made yourself in my image, and that's pretty flattering to a guy, even if he wasn't completely distracted by trying to see how much he could see through the skintight outfit…"

"You're a bad boy!" she giggled, hitting him playfully.

"And you're a hot gal who's made herself in my image, incredibly enthusiastic and eager to please, has a great sense of humor, seems to really understand my sense of humor, has a lotta natural criminal talent, and beat my arch-nemesis senseless last night. And you wonder why I can't keep my hands off you?" he chuckled.

"I guess when you put it that way, it is kinda obvious," she said, grinning. "I just…I dunno. I never really thought of myself as that…special."

"Well, do you think I'd want any gal who wasn't?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I guess not," she said. "Thanks, boss."

"You gotta stop calling me that," he said. "It's just awkward in bed."

"I think it's kinda naughty and wrong and hot," she murmured, snuggling against him. "The idea that I'm sleeping with my boss – it's kinda dirty."

"Boy, it don't take much to get you going, does it?" he asked, grinning at her.

"Aw, c'mon, boss, you gotta know that complimenting a gal is a great way to get her into bed," murmured Harley.

"Well, I don't like 'boss,'" he retorted. "You'll have to think of a different name to get me in the mood."

"Mmm…ok…big boy," she whispered.

He snorted. "Have a little imagination, Harley!"

"Ok…puddin'."

"No," he said, flatly. "Not in a million years."

"I like puddin'," grumbled Harley. "And I think it suits you."

"Well, clearly you ain't hard to please," he snapped.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded. "You saying I'm easy? I guess that's what I get for going to bed with you!"

She tried climbing out of bed, but he seized her around the waist, pulling her back down. "You better think of a good nickname soon," he murmured, grinning as he kissed down her neck. "Because Daddy can't wait much longer."

She grinned. "How about…Honey J."

He made a face. "Don't make me sick."

"Studmuffin?"

"That's almost as bad as puddin'," he said.

"What about…oh, Mr. J!" she gasped, as he planted a kiss on her belly. He looked up.

"Say it again," he murmured.

"Mmm…Mistah J," she purred, drawing out her Brooklyn accent and grinning. "How about it, puddin'?"

He grinned. "Mr. J is gonna take his Harley for a nice, long ride," he whispered, kissing her. "I like it. I really do."


	13. Chapter 13

"This is a huge step, Mr. J, and it's all so sudden!" said Harley, later that day. "I can't believe you want me to move in!"

"It's not a huge step – you just live down the hall," retorted Joker. "But I want you in my bed at night, so you might as well just bring your stuff with you. I can't imagine you're too attached to that rattrap down the hall…"

"Hey, it was starting to feel like home!" she said. "But I guess I should bring my toothbrush and stuff if I'm spending the night again. Gotta have a big, white smile as part of my job, right, boss?"

He chuckled, kissing her. "Go get your stuff, kiddo," he said, spanking her and heading over to his desk. "I got some work to do anyway."

"I should really get a shower, but maybe I'll come back here and use yours," she said, standing up and putting her arms around his neck. "It's nicer than mine – there ain't a buncha dead cockroaches in it."

He laughed, kissing her. "Don't be too long," he said, stroking her hair. "I might want a study break."

"Maybe you shouldn't be so greedy!" she giggled, dressing.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so tempting," he retorted.

They kissed once more at his door, and then Harley skipped down the hall to her room. She would probably leave a few things there – obviously her notebook, which she certainly had a lot to write about in, she thought with a grin.

"Where have you been?" said a voice as she entered her room, which wiped the smile from her face.

"Ernie! I've been…out," she stammered, her mind racing to think up a good excuse. She had actually completely forgotten about him until just now. "Doing stuff…with the boss…"

"Were you doing stuff with him all night?" he asked, lightly.

"Uh…I was…yeah…working last night…for the job…y'know…"

He approached her, and she tried to look nonchalant. "You've been sleeping with him," he said quietly, in a mixture of astonishment and disgust.

"I…I had to gain his trust, Ernie, for the mission, y'know…"

"You didn't have to sleep with him!" he roared. "Are you out of your mind?! He's a murderer, a monster, a heartless psychopath, and you thought it would be a good idea to jump into bed with him?!"

"I…I'm just…trying to make the mission a success…"

"That's not what undercover means, Harley!" he shouted. "It doesn't mean that you go under the covers of his bed! It doesn't mean you prostitute yourself for the success of the mission!"

"Right, so you can kill to complete the mission, but I can't sleep with a guy?!" she snapped. "We both have to do whatever it takes to gain his trust! No matter how unpleasant it is! You of all people know that!"

"Harley, _you _shouldn't have to do anything unpleasant!" he hissed, grabbing her shoulders. "I'm doing my duty as a cop, but you're not bound by any sort of duty to do things like that! You shouldn't sacrifice your ethics and your body for this mission! That's not part of your job!"

"I'm doing what I have to, Ernie," she snapped. "Same as you."

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Oh God, I can't bear to think of the two of you together!" he hissed. "This is worse than having to kill a guy! And I thought you said…he didn't have any sexual urges!"

"I was wrong," said Harley, quietly.

"Listen to me," he said, taking her shoulders again. "You have to stop. For my sake. I've been put through enough hell on this goddamn assignment without having to deal with you and that creature…you have to stop sleeping with him."

"I can't, Ernie," she retorted. "He'd get suspicious. And think of all the insights I'm getting – if he trusts me enough to share his bed with me, he'll trust me enough to share all kinds of secrets. No one has ever been intimate with him like this before. And I won't stop until I learn all I can from him."

"But Harley…I love you," he whispered. "I can't go through this…"

"You can," she whispered. "Just like you killed a guy. Because you have to. For the success of the mission."

She touched his cheek. "You said you admired my dedication to the cause. If you truly admire it, you'll accept what I'm doing."

He nodded slowly. "I'll…do my best," he muttered.

"Ok. You're a good cop," she said. "And you'll have a medal when this is over."

He looked at her. "I don't care about a medal. The only thing I want is you safely away from that monster forever, somewhere where he can't get his filthy hands on you ever again."

He stormed from the room, and Harley let out the breath she'd been holding. She sank to her knees on her bed, shutting her eyes and trying to think rationally about what she should do.

She could only forget about the mission for so long. Either she completely turned her back on the law and betrayed Henderson to Joker, which would probably result in his horrible torture and death, or she waited until he returned to the GCPD, and just didn't come back with him. If they wanted to arrest the Joker and his gang, they'd have to arrest her along with them. That would be her choice.

She decided the lesser of two evils was to wait until Henderson completed his mission, and see what happened then. At least the police wouldn't kill Joker or his gang if they arrested them, while handing Henderson over to the Joker would result in his certain death, and Harley couldn't condemn him to that. He had suffered enough already. And he would suffer even more when she told him that she wasn't coming back with him, that she was staying with the Joker, no matter what.


	14. Chapter 14

"Sorry I've delayed the operation review a couple days, guys – I've been busy," said the Joker, addressing the henchmen in the lounge a few days later. He grinned at Harley and she couldn't suppress a giggle. She felt the eyes of the henchmen glancing from her to Joker, and there was mostly confusion on their faces.

"Busy doing things around the bedroom," he continued. "Or should that be busy doing a certain person around the bedroom…"

"Mr. J, stop it!" giggled Harley. "They get it!"

"I don't get it," said Rocco, raising his hand.

"Well, a gentlemen never kisses and tells, Roc," said Joker, nodding at him. "So you'll just have to remain ignorant. Now, the first part of the job went off without a hitch – well done to Jerry and Henshaw for the prompt dispatch of the guards," he said, nodding at them. Harley saw Henderson gritting his jaw, but he nodded in acknowledgment at the compliment. "For once I think the biggest mistake was made by yours truly, for not checking for extra security around the gemstones," continued Joker. "But then I was…distracted," he said, glancing at Harley again. "And no harm done in the end. But a huge well done to Harley for doing such a great job at beating the Bat senseless," he said. "I know I've shown her how much I appreciated it."

Harley giggled again. "Happy to help, Mr. J," she purred.

"Since her arrival, Harley has been particularly enthusiastic and eager to please me…in every way she can," he growled. "You could all learn something from her attitude, couldn't they, Harley?"

"Whatever you say, Mr. J," she replied. "I just like seeing you smile. It's the most beautiful sight in the world."

He chuckled. "C'mere, you!" he said, holding out his arms to her. Harley skipped over to him, throwing her arms around his neck, and he kissed her passionately in front of everyone. "Guys, remember when I said that Harley was equal to all of you?" he asked.

They all nodded. "I lied," he said. "She's a hot little package of dynamite, all fire and pizzazz, and she's all mine!"

"Oh, is that what you meant about being busy?" said Rocco, the realization dawning on him. "I get it!"

Henderson stood up. "Is that all, boss?" he muttered.

"Oh…yeah, sure, Henshaw," said Joker. "Dismissed."

Henderson nodded curtly, storming off to his room. "Wonder what's eating him?" said Jerry.

"Probably jealous," retorted Joker. "Think he's kinda sweet on you, Harley."

"Aw, we all love Harley, boss," said Rocco.

"Too bad," she said, grinning. "I only got eyes for one man. Sorry, Jerry," she added, smiling at him.

"That's just a joke we got going on, boss," said Jerry, hastily. "I ain't ever tried anything with Harley, it was just some innocent teasing…"

"I know, Jerry, calm down!" chuckled Joker. "Harley's a one man loon, I know that! You look at that pretty, honest face and tell me that ain't a loyal dame," he said, squeezing her cheeks together. "Couldn't be deceptive if your life depended on it, could you, sweets?"

Harley smiled, feeling her heart wrenching at that, since she had joined his gang under false pretenses. "Nah uh, Mr. J," she purred.

"Well, we'll catch you boys later!" said Joker, putting his arm around her waist and leading her toward the door. "Probably have a new scheme ready in a few days, weeks, depends on when I get a chance to plan it free from distractions! So it could be a while!" he chuckled, kissing Harley's cheek. "See ya!"

"Wow. That's weird," said Jerry, staring after them.

"What?" asked Rocco.

"Seeing the boss all loved up," he replied. "The boss, of all people! He's never shown any interest in women before – I always assumed he didn't swing that way. Or any way at all, really."

"I think it's nice," said Rocco. "It's nice seeing Harley happy anyway, and it's pretty obvious the boss makes her happy."

"Yeah. That's weird too, though," said Jerry. "I like Harley and everything, but…what do you think she sees in the boss?"

"What does your wife see in you?" retorted Rocco.

"Whaddya mean?" he demanded. "I'm a catch!"

"I'm just saying, love is blind," retorted Rocco. "And subjective. And crazy, more often than not. And if you learn one thing working for the boss, it's that you can't try to understand crazy. You just gotta roll with it."

"I guess," agreed Jerry, shrugging and thinking no more about it. "So…how about a game of darts?"

…

The Joker felt Harley turn over again in his arms. "You been tossing and turning all night," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. "You ok?"

"Yeah. Just…can't sleep, I guess," she murmured. The truth was her thoughts were driving her wild – her dilemma over the mission was now mingled with feelings of guilt that the Joker trusted her so blindly. If he ever found out the truth…

"Mmm, don't tell me you ain't tired out yet," he chuckled, yawning. "I know I am! You can't want more, you little sex fiend!"

"I don't," she murmured, grinning. "You've done a great job satisfying your Harley girl."

"But?" he prompted.

"I dunno, I just…" she trailed off, and then gave voice to the third thing weighing on her mind. "I think…I'm in love with you."

He smiled. "You're a beautiful little fool, Harley Quinn," he whispered, kissing her. "But why is that keeping you awake?"

"Because I…shouldn't be in love with you," she whispered. "It's wrong. It's crazy. You're a…"

She trailed off, gazing at him. "Yes? What am I?" he prompted.

"Well, you're not a normal guy, obviously," she retorted. "You're a criminal, a psychopath, a man who has never before displayed any depth of feeling, or treated other people as anything more than disposable objects, or…punchlines to jokes. What kinda a man is that for me to pick to wanna have a future with? What kinda a man is that for me to fall head over heels in love with? You shouldn't be the kinda guy who ever makes any woman happy and yet…I've never felt happier in my life," she whispered. "But…what if we're both lying to each other? What if these feelings aren't real? What if I am just some punchline to a joke you're setting up…"

"Is that what you're afraid of?" he interrupted. "That I'm playing a game with you?"

She shrugged. "You're the Joker. It's not an unreasonable fear. And what if I'm throwing my life away…on some joke?"

He kissed her. "You can't throw your life away on a joke," he whispered. "You laugh at jokes. Jokes make you happy. And nothing that makes you happy is ever a waste. If you're in love with me and that makes you happy, you shouldn't worry about anything else. It will never be a waste."

He stroked her hair back. "And I'll tell you what feelings are real. Madness is real. Insanity is real. Anything that makes you feel crazy is real. And that's certainly how I feel about you. You can't doubt that love is real if it's crazy. That's how you know it's love."

She grinned, kissing him. "How can a man who's clinically insane make so much sense?" she whispered.

"Simple. The shrinks who certified me are nuts!" he chuckled.

"Like me," murmured Harley, snuggling against him and shutting her eyes.

"Like you, my crazy little henchwench," he said, pulling her close. "Guess that's why we're perfect for each other."

"Made in your image," she agreed, yawning. "Made for each other."

She was asleep in moments.


	15. Chapter 15

"Oh, puddin', it's beautiful!" exclaimed Harley as the Joker presented her with a brand new gun a few days later. "What's the occasion?"

"Can't a guy get his girlfriend a present for no reason?" asked Joker, smiling at her.

She giggled. "I like being called your girlfriend, Mr. J," she said. "Does that mean you're my boyfriend?"

"Sure," he said, shrugging.

"I really like the sound of that," she purred. "My boyfriend, the Joker."

He chuckled, kissing her. "C'mon, try it out," he said, gesturing to the targets. "Let's see how she handles!"

She fired six rounds into Batman's face. "Pretty good, I see!" chuckled Joker.

"Yeah. But I think it's mostly because I think about you when I'm shooting," she said, grinning. "Handle a gun like a lover, remember?"

He kissed her again. "You fire off another couple rounds like that and I'll be in the mood in no time!" he chuckled.

"Aw, I would, puddin', but I'm all outta bullets," she sighed, opening the gun's chamber. "Got some more in my room though – lemme go get 'em…"

"I'll go, cupcake," he said, kissing her. "You stay right there, just like that, and don't move a muscle!" he chuckled.

He headed back down the hall, opening the door to Harley's room. "Bullets, bullets," he said, looking around and rifling through her bag. "Where…"

He suddenly noticed her notebook peeking out from underneath her pillows. Curious, he pulled it out and flipped to the most recent page, where Harley had written the words _Joker's Sexual Behavior_ along with a list of bullet points.

"The dirty little minx!" he chuckled. "She's keeping some kinda weird, erotic diary so she can fantasize in her spare time…"

He trailed off as he flipped a page. _Seem to have awakened sublimated sexuality in subject – must take note of behavior during act to share with scientific community re sexual manifestations of psychopathic personalities. No known record of subject having any libido, so it is of vital importance that I put down everything experienced. There could be a whole paper in the Sexuality of the Joker, possibly in relation to Batman – will explore that area as relationship progresses. It is possible that a sexual outlet will result in less destructive tendencies from subject – must get list of previous offenses to see if subject's crimes are more or less violent after sexual awakening – ask Gordon on return to GCPD._

Joker stared at the words in front of him. And then he flipped to the first page of the book and began to read.

…

Harley waited for the Joker's return for what seemed like hours. Finally she grew bored and headed to her room. "Puddin'!" she called, opening the door, but it was empty. Frowning, she headed down the hall to his room, knocking on the door. "Puddin'? You in there?"

"Come in, Harley," he said.

She obeyed, surprised to see him sitting in total darkness. The only light came from the end of the cigarette the Joker was smoking, which reflected in his deep, green eyes. They were fixed on her, expressionless, as he puffed out a cloud of smoke.

"Shut the door and sit down," he muttered.

Harley obeyed, taking the chair in front of him. "Am I in trouble?" she asked, grinning at him. "You look so serious, puddin'!"

"Don't…call me that," he growled.

She shrugged. "Whatever you say, Mr. J."

"Don't call me that either," he muttered, putting his cigarette down. "Call me the Joker, just like everyone else. Because that's what you are, Harley. Just like everyone else."

She stared at him in confusion. "I don't understand…"

"I think you do, Dr. Harleen Quinzel," he murmured.

She gaped at him, panic and heartbreak racing through her. "W…what?"

"Don't lie to me anymore than you already have," he said, tossing the notebook at her feet and glaring at her. "Dr. Harleen Quinzel. The GCPD sent you here to spy on me, didn't they? You were nothing but a honeytrap, meant to gain my trust and then stab me in the back. Everything else was all a lie. All a joke. And I fell for it."

"No, Mr. J, please, it's not true!" she stammered. "It may have started out like that, but it's different now! I love you…"

He struck her a hard blow across the face. "Don't…lie to me again!" he shouted.

"It ain't a lie," she gasped, gazing up at him. "I promise you. I don't wanna be Dr. Harleen Quinzel anymore. I wanna stay with you, and be your Harley Quinn…"

"You are nothing but a lying little whore!" he shouted. "And a traitor! A goddamn pig spy in my midst, and I was too blind to see it! I let myself get attached to you, and fond of you, and…"

He caught himself before he could finish the sentence, looking down at her with rage in his eyes. "I can't believe I fell for it, you lying slut," he hissed. "I can't believe I fell for you. But I did. Hook, line, and sinker."

"Mr. J, please…" she began, but he ripped her up by her arm, dragging her across the room into the bathroom and turning on the faucet in the sink. He forced her face into the water, holding her down by the back of the head as she choked and sputtered.

"Wash it off! Wash it all off!" he roared. "Stop pretending to be someone you're not, whore!"

Harley gasped for air, and just as she grew dizzy, she was ripped away from the sink and thrown onto the ground. She lay there, panting and sobbing, gazing up at him with the remains of her makeup running down her face.

He grabbed his knife, glaring down at her coldly. "What…what are you doing?" she gasped, terrified.

He said nothing, kneeling down beside her and pressing the blade of the knife against her heart. She stared at him in terror, her own pleading eyes gazing into his hard, stern ones. "Please, Mr. J, don't…" she began.

She gasped as she felt the blade cut, but it wasn't deep. It just nicked the skin as he drew it over her clothes, cutting the fabric of her costume and slashing it to pieces.

"Take it off!" he hissed, grabbing the rags of fabric and tearing them off her body. "Take off the joke that was set up by the cops! I never thought I'd fall for something like that. I never thought I'd fall for someone like you, you cheating little tart! But the joke's on me, wasn't it?"

He ripped the rags off her skin, leaving her naked and shivering on the cold tiles, makeup and mascara running down her tear-stained face. He dropped the knife at her feet and then turned away.

"Mr. J…please…I love you!" she gasped.

He turned back, striking her hard across the face. "Stop…lying…to…me…you…little…slut!" he roared, beating her at every word. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

He fell to his knees next to her, and seized her around the throat, squeezing hard. Harley saw black spots swimming in front of her eyes, but she kept her eyes on him.

He kissed her suddenly, violently, enveloping her whole mouth. It was full of rage and fury, as if he was trying to hurt her by kissing her, and Harley couldn't help loving it.

He released her at last, breathing heavily. "I knew you were too good to be true," he whispered, gazing at her. "Too perfect. I should have known it wasn't real. I should kill you for trying to fool me like that, for trying to set me up...but I'm not going to."

He stood up slowly. "I'm going to let you live, and go back to your pig friends, and brag to them about what a great job you did wriggling your way into the Joker's gang, and into his bed. I'm going to let you live with your lies and deceit and cowardice, and the knowledge that if I ever see you again, I'll shoot you in the face without a second thought. I'm doing you a favor, because you helped me, really. Despite the lies and the betrayal, you taught me that no one can be trusted. No one is special. And to think I once thought you were. But you're not. You're just like all the rest, Dr. Harleen Quinzel. You're as unimportant as everyone else in this goddamn town. You lying, cheating, backstabbing little traitor."

He gave her one more contemptuous glance, then turned and left her shivering on the floor.

Harley broke down sobbing, feeling bruises forming all over, but that wasn't why she was crying. Her heart was splintering into a million pieces, each one stabbing its way deeper into her body until she thought she'd die from the pain.

And then she heard banging and shouting coming from outside. She struggled to her feet, wrapping a towel around her body, and limped out of the room.

The hideout was swarming with policemen – the GCPD were rounding up the last of the henchmen. She looked around for the Joker and saw him being forced to the ground with six cops handcuffing him.

"Nice work, Henderson," said Gordon, shaking the undercover policeman's hand.

"Goddamn pig spy!" shouted Jerry, who was being wrestled to the ground. "There's a special circle of hell reserved for traitors, y'know!"

"Is Dr. Quinzel still with you?" asked Gordon, ignoring him.

"She should be around here some…Harley!" gasped Henderson, noticing her at that moment. "Oh my God, what happened?! Who did this?!"

Harley didn't say anything, but tears welled up in her eyes. "Don't worry, Dr. Quinzel – we're taking you home," said Gordon, gently. "You've done a good job, now rest easy. You'll never have to see these people again."

"Harley…no!" gasped Jerry, astonished. "No, you can't have been…working for the pigs!"

"Harley?" murmured Rocco, shocked. "No, it can't be true!"

"It is true," growled Joker, glaring at her. "Tell 'em, Harley! Tell 'em the truth, you backstabbing little traitor! Tell 'em how you played us all!"

Harley burst into tears again. "Take 'em away!" growled Gordon. "I want them all to rot in a cell for a very long time!"

"Mr. J, please…" sobbed Harley as he was dragged past, but he spat at her. The police restraining him began beating him in retaliation.

"Stop it!" screamed Harley, lunging forward, but Henderson held her back. "Stop it! Stop it! Don't hurt him! Please don't…"

She broke off, sobbing and falling to the ground as he was dragged away.


	16. Chapter 16

The next time Harley saw the Joker, he was handcuffed and chained to the sofa in the interview room at Arkham Asylum. "Could you…leave us, please?" she whispered to the guards.

They nodded. "We'll be waiting outside."

They shut the door, leaving them alone.

"How…are you doing?" stammered Harley.

He didn't respond, just glared at her with pure hatred in his eyes. "Didn't I swear I'd shoot you in the face if I ever saw you again?" he growled.

"Yes, but…I had to see you," she whispered. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't feel anything but…"

She choked on a sob. "Oh, Mr. J, I'm so sorry!"

He continued to glare at her. "So this is who you truly are, Dr. Harleen Quinzel," he sneered. "Nice, normal shrink getup, looking just like everybody else. You make me sick."

"I make myself sick," she agreed. "What I did to you was completely unforgivable, and I will never forgive myself for it. I just…didn't know what else to do. I couldn't give you up…nobody…nobody ever thought I was special until you did. I was never happier being myself than when I was Harley Quinn, _your _Harley Quinn. I just hate who I am now."

He didn't respond, just looked at her. If his eyes had been daggers stabbing into her heart, they couldn't have hurt her any more than they did. "Nothing I ever told you was a lie," she whispered. "I didn't fake my enthusiasm about everything to do with your lifestyle. I would have gone crazy if I continued the way I was going as a psychiatrist – I would have died from boredom. You made me feel alive and special and free, and I love you. None of that was a lie."

He still didn't respond. "I wanted to stay with you," she whispered. "I was going to stay with…when Henderson brought the cops, I was gonna let myself get arrested with you…"

"Then why didn't you?" he snapped. "If you really loved me, why didn't you tell me Henderson was a plant?"

"Because I knew you'd kill him," she whispered. "And I couldn't do that to him…"

"No, but you could do that to me!" he roared. "You could betray me! Obviously I ain't the one you love, Harley, it's that pig you want! Well, go be with him now – there's nothing stopping you! I ain't there to get in the way and tell you you can't be together! That's who you always really wanted, wasn't it?! I was just the one you had to pretend to want, for the job!"

"No, puddin', that ain't true!" she sobbed. "I don't want him! I don't love him – I love you!"

"Then you should have told me about the pig," he growled. "You should have sacrificed anything and anyone to protect me. That's what someone who loved me would do. So how dare you say those words to me, you lying slut? How dare you?"

"Puddin', I do love you…"

She choked as his handcuffs came about her throat, tightening. "Shut up!" he hissed in her face. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! You backstabbing little whore! You'll never tell another lie again!"

She was gasping for air, black spots swimming in front of her face. "I love you," she whispered, in between gasps. "I'll never stop…saying that…because it's true. I love you!"

And that's when the door burst open and the guards rushed in, ripping Joker away from her and beating him.

"Stop it!" gasped Harley, throwing herself in front of him. "You're not going to hurt him anymore!"

Joker chuckled coldly. "Don't you worry, Doc. Their beatings ain't nothing compared to what I've already suffered. I've been hurt much worse, as you well know."

"Mr. J, please…" she begged.

"Take this animal back to his cell!" shouted the guard as they hauled him to his feet.

"You'd better get a new job, Doc, because once I bust outta here, you're dead!" he shouted back as he was dragged off. "A bullet to the brain, and then I'll see you in hell, Harley! You dirty little traitor! I'll see you in hell!"

"Dr. Quinzel, are you all right?" asked one of the guards, helping her up. "Do you need medical attention?"

"N…no, thank you," she whispered.

"Let me walk you to your car…"

"No, thank you," she said, firmly. "I can manage."

She left the asylum with her head held high, but broke down sobbing the moment she entered her car. Her phone rang and she glanced at the number – it was Henderson. He had been calling her repeatedly since the raid, but he was the last person she wanted to talk to.

She threw the phone into the backseat, crying into her hands. She had made a mess of everything, and she was afraid that she had ruined everything between her and the Joker forever. How could he ever trust her again? He was right – she should have betrayed Henderson to him, she should have done anything to protect him. How could she claim to love him when she hadn't done that? And how could she ever prove her love to him now?

She tried to calm down and think rationally. The problem had been that she hadn't been willing to sacrifice everything for Mr. J. And now she would have to do just that. She hadn't wanted to turn her back on the law, but she would have to. He was worth that. He was worth everything.

She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, and then grabbed her phone, calling Henderson back.

"Harley, thank God! How are you doing? You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Matt," she murmured. "Uh…look, we at Arkham aren't getting anywhere with the Joker, as usual, and I was wondering if you cops wanted to see if you could get any info outta him, y'know, the way you do."

Henderson was silent. "That's illegal, Harley. We aren't allowed to interrogate prisoners without the presence of a lawyer, especially not the mentally ill…"

"After what he did to me, Matt, I wanna see him suffer," whispered Harley. "Surely you could get him transferred temporarily to a cell in Blackgate, away from the eyes of the doctors, and maybe with the henchmen present, so they can watch, and then rough him up and blame it on the prisoners? I could authorize the transfer at my end – you just need to authorize it on yours."

"Harley, I'm not going to break the law…"

"He beat me," she whispered. "After all I did for him, and he treats me like a punching bag. After all I let him do to me, and it was some sick stuff, Matt…I can't even think about it without…hating myself…"

She began crying again. "But Harley, fighting violence with violence isn't the way," he murmured. "You have to be strong…"

"I ain't as strong as you, Matt!" she sobbed. "You were right – I shouldn't have done the things I did for the mission! I can't cope with thinking about what I did! I'm a shrink, and I can't cope with it! I gotta see him suffer for what he's done to me! You gotta make him suffer! Please! For me!"

He didn't respond for a long time. Then he said, "Authorize the transfer to Blackgate – say the police need to speak to him and that the holding cells at the station are full. Promise it'll just be an overnight deal, and it will. Then he's going back to Arkham the next day, hopefully a lot more worse for wear. You won't know anything about it, and the worst they can do is suspend me. Probably let me off with a warning if I blame the violent urges on the PTSD."

"I gotta be there to watch it, Matt," she whispered. "Promise me you'll let me be there."

He sighed heavily. "Yeah, I promise, Harley. I'll let you know."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Bye, Matt."

"Bye, Harley."

She hung up the phone and then started her car. While she was waiting for his call, she intended to do some shopping. She would definitely be needing some new clothes.


	17. Chapter 17

The Joker had been woken up in the middle of the night and dragged into a van by the Arkham guards. The van deposited him in what appeared to be a prison yard, before the prison guards dragged him down a long, barred corridor and into a cell, before locking the door and leaving him.

"Boss?" whispered a familiar voice.

"Roc, Jerry, boys!" said Joker, surprised as he looked around the surrounding cells.

"What are you doing in Blackgate, boss?" asked Rocco. "And at this time of night?"

"I…dunno," said Joker, slowly. "But I can't imagine anything good."

The cell door opened and another familiar figure entered. "There, y'see, I was right!" said Joker, grinning. "Nothing good! What do you want, pig?"

Henderson just glared at him, and then struck him a blow across the face. Joker fell back, trying to regain his balance and trying to fight back, but that was difficult since his hands and legs were still cuffed together.

He licked the blood from his lip, grinning. "Oh, I get it. A little police brutality payback for making you do bad things while you worked for me, is that it?"

"This isn't for me," growled Henderson. "It's for Harley."

Joker snorted. "You shouldn't be defending that cheap tart. She got exactly what she deserved."

"Don't talk about her that way," snapped Henderson. "Don't insult her just because she outsmarted you, the great Joker. That's really why you were so angry at her, isn't it? Because you don't have the guts to be angry at yourself. Because in the end, you were just as stupid as any other man when a young, attractive girl shows an interest. She gave you the bait, and however smart you think you are, you fell for it. You're no different from everybody else in that respect – when someone flatters your ego and presses your buttons, you're putty in their hands."

Henderson punched him in the stomach, and Joker fell to his knees, gasping for breath. "You're an idiot," growled Henderson. "Did you honestly think a woman like that would want someone like you? That a young, beautiful, smart, fun girl like Harley would have any genuine interest in some sick freak?! She's not dumb enough to fall for a man like you, a man who can only offer her a life of crime and pain and misery! If you had stopped to think for one second you would have known she had to be a setup! But you didn't think. You just enjoyed the fantasy, and now you're gonna pay the price for being blinded by your own disgusting desires. The moment Harley gets here, you're gonna really start hurting!"

He kicked him to the ground. "So why don't you laugh now, clown?" he hissed. "Isn't it funny? Don't you always enjoy the punchline to your jokes? Or is it not funny anymore now that you're the punchline? Can't stand being made a fool of, huh? You can dish out sick jokes, but you can't deal with one being played on you?"

He kicked him again in the ribs. "Why aren't you laughing, clown?" he demanded. "Go ahead, laugh! Now the joke's finally on you!"

"No," murmured a voice behind them. "It's on you."

"Harley?" gasped Rocco, as they all turned.

It was indeed Harley Quinn who stood there, dressed in her usual black and red costume and clown makeup. She held a hammer in one hand and a gun in the other, a gun which she had pointed straight at Henderson.

"Uncuff him," she commanded.

Henderson stared at her in disbelief. "Harley, what are you…"

"I'm busting him outta here," she said. "Plus the rest of the gang too, of course. So uncuff him now."

"No, Harley, you can't…you don't…" stammered Henderson. "The mission's over…"

"I know that, Matt," she snapped. "And now I'm free to choose what I want to do and who I want to be with. And this is my choice. Uncuff him," she repeated.

"But Harley, you can't seriously…you don't…you don't love him!" shouted Henderson.

"Yes," she whispered. "I do. I know I told you it was all an act, but I lied. I didn't sleep with him for the sake of the mission. I slept with him because I love him. And it may be crazy, but I don't care. If it is, I don't want to be sane anymore."

"Harley, you're just…confused from your ordeal," stammered Henderson, trying to explain it away. "You're trying to make yourself feel better about…about what he did to you, so you've convinced yourself that you're in love with him, but it's not true! You're a victim of…"

"I'm not a victim!" she shouted. "Harley Quinn is who I am! Now uncuff him, Matt – we don't have much time! That bomb alert I raised to distract the guards is only gonna distract them for so long before the real bomb goes off…"

As she said this, there was a rumble, and then a huge explosion took out the wall at the end of the hall. Harley grabbed the keys from Henderson, and began unlocking the neighboring cells. "Get outta here, boys!" she shouted. "Now Matt, for the last time, uncuff…"

She trailed off as she turned back to see Henderson holding a gun against the Joker's head. "No!" Henderson hissed. "I'm not letting that scum out there to murder innocent people again! I'll see him dead first, and do us all a favor!"

"Put down the gun," she commanded, raising her own level with his face.

"No," he repeated. "You're not as far gone as that – you won't kill a police officer to save the life of a homicidal manic who's murdered thousands of innocent people! You're not that crazy, Harley!"

Harley stared back at him, trailing her fingers along her gun and thinking of Mr. J. "Yes, I am," she whispered.

And then she pulled the trigger. Joker felt the bullet whiz past his cheek, and then felt blood splatter onto his face. And then Henderson's body fell to the ground.

Harley didn't waste a moment, grabbing the keys to the handcuffs from his belt and freeing the Joker. "C'mon," she said, grabbing his arm. "The guards are coming."

Joker shook her hand off and bent down to pick up Henderson's gun. He then strode past her toward the hole in the wall, ignoring her presence completely. Harley stared after him, deeply hurt. If this hadn't proved her love for him, nothing did. Why wasn't that enough? And if he still continued to be cold and cruel toward her, she had given up her life and her sanity for a man who would never again return her love. That wasn't just crazy – that was stupid.

Nevertheless, she raced after him into the night. She no longer had a choice.


	18. Chapter 18

"Way to go, Harley!" cried Rocco, hugging her as she entered the new hideout. The henchmen were all waiting for her, and began cheering and applauding her as they all competed for hugs. "That's the way to do a break-out!"

"Knew that whole traitor routine wasn't true!" said Jerry, holding her in a bone-crushing embrace. "I just knew you weren't lying to us! Boy, what a double cross!"

"Thanks, boys!" said Harley, beaming at them. "It's good to be home! Y'know, even though it's a completely different location, but it's the people that make it home, ain't that right?"

They all cheered in agreement, congratulating her again on the daring escape. And then the Joker entered the room and they fell silent.

"Good to see you, boss!" said Rocco. "Didn't Harley do a great job of pulling the wool over those dumb pigs' eyes?"

He didn't respond – just stormed across the room and slammed the door. "Gee, what's eating him?" asked Jerry. "You think he'd be happy Harley just busted us all outta the clink."

"He's probably tired, Jerry," said Harley. "You know, he's had a rougher day than the rest of you, being kicked around all. I'm sure he'll be all smiles and laughter tomorrow, as usual."

She wasn't at all sure of that, but the guys seemed to buy it, because they instantly went back to talking and laughing amongst themselves. Harley accepted the congratulatory beers they pressed on her, anything to distract her and keep her from being alone with her thoughts.

When the party broke up hours later, Harley headed down the hall to an empty room. She passed the Joker's room on the way, but no lights were on, and she didn't want to disturb him. Maybe he'd feel like talking in the morning, she thought, as she lay down on her single mattress alone. Maybe things would seem better in the morning, although she sincerely doubted it.

Her thoughts tormented her, and the only reason she dropped off to sleep eventually was probably from the amount of beers she had drunk. She awoke in the early hours of the morning because she felt the presence of someone in her room.

"Mmm…Mr. J?" she said, rubbing her eyes.

He was seated on the end of her bed, looking at her. "I suppose you think this makes everything ok between us again," he murmured. "That I'm suddenly going to forgive you for stabbing me in the back because you busted me outta jail."

"I told you, Mr. J, I never meant to betray you," she whispered. "You have to believe that. And if I have to spend the rest of my life doing whatever it takes to prove my love for you, I will."

He didn't say anything. Harley sat up, and it was only then that she noticed he had a gun in his hand, a gun which was casually pointed at her.

"I've been sitting here trying to decide whether I should shoot you or not," he murmured. "I've been sitting here for the past hour with a gun pointed at you, wondering if I should pull that trigger and bury a bullet in your pretty little brain."

"And…should you?" she stammered.

He didn't respond. "I haven't yet," he said at last. "But that doesn't mean I won't someday."

He put the gun away, standing up. "Come to bed," he said, leaving the room without another word.

She obeyed, standing up and following him into his room. "Mr. J, I'm sorry for…" she began, but he kissed her harshly.

"I don't want you to talk anymore tonight," he whispered. "And I don't want you to mention what you're sorry for ever again, because I don't want to be reminded of it ever again. Or I'll shoot you in the face."

His eyes were deadly serious, and Harley knew better than to test if he was joking. She just nodded, surrendering to his mouth and returning his kisses. She was devoting her life to a man who had just threatened her with death, a man who she knew would keep his word if she ever brought up her betrayal to the cops again. It was insane. And she couldn't have been happier about it.

She dropped off to sleep in his arms, and woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains. She planted a kiss on his lips and he stirred, opening his eyes.

"Morning," she whispered, and was relieved when he smiled back at her.

"Morning," he said.

She could have sobbed in relief, but just kissed him again instead. "Lemme make you some breakfast," she said, reaching for her clothes and about to stand up.

He pulled her back down and kissed her again, a long, lingering, tender kiss. Harley knew the Joker would never say things like "I'm sorry," "I forgive you," or even "I love you," but he didn't have to. That kiss said all of those things and more.

He drew away at last, and Harley smiled up at him. "I love you," she whispered.

He smiled, and then kissed her nose. "Go make breakfast," he said, releasing her.

She climbed out of bed and threw on her clothes, and then padded down the hall. She paused in front of the room she'd been using, suddenly remembering something she had been meaning to do.

Joker looked up as she re-entered his bedroom. "That was quick…" he began, but his smile fell and his eyes grew cold again when he saw that she was carrying her notebook.

"Um…I wanted to give you this…to destroy," she stammered. "Burn it or something, please, so I don't have to be reminded..."

He nodded, grabbing it away from her. "I'll take care of it," he said, curtly.

"I…I wanted you to know that…I didn't share anything I wrote in there with anyone else," she continued. "And I never will. You're not my patient – you're my lover. And the things we share together are for us alone to know. The world will never hear about them from me."

He nodded. "Good," he said. She turned to go, hoping she hadn't ruined everything again by reminding him of what had passed.

"I mean, it's terribly written, Harley," he said, flipping through it. "And some of it's not even true. I do not have an insatiable sexual appetite – that's you."

"Really?" retorted Harley, turning to grin at him. "Because as I recall, when you're in the mood, there's no stopping you."

"I think you need to do a little more observation and experimentation," he retorted. "I mean, if you really want to understand all my sexual appetites."

She giggled. "Well, maybe after breakfast, we should start experimenting, Mr. J," she purred, kissing him. "Purely in the interests of science, of course."

"Mmm, it's a good thing you won't be writing it down, since it would probably be banned for gross indecency," he murmured. "Unpublishable in most countries. Really sick, dirty, twisted stuff."

She giggled again. "I'm really looking forward to it, Mr. J," she said, kissing him. "Now lemme go make breakfast."

She skipped out of the room, and he looked at the notebook for a moment, then climbed out of bed and threw it in the trashcan. He lit a match and dropped it inside, and watched as the flames consumed the pages.

"Good riddance, Dr. Harleen Quinzel," he muttered, glaring at it.

The door opened again and Harley entered with breakfast. Joker took her in his arms, planted a kiss on her forehead, and whispered, "Hello, Harley Quinn."

**The End**


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